A Blackness Unbrightened
by Sunbeam Monopoly
Summary: The boys venture deep into the earth to fight an unknown foe, angst for all. This is my first fic so responses are greatly and deeply appreciated!
1. Chapter 1

ONE

The blackness was complete, beyond pitch. The kind of blackness where you couldn't see your own hand inches from your face. Dean knew this to be true; he had tried several times to confirm it. The sunlight filtering through the mouth of the cave had long ago dissipated. However, the batteries in the flashlight were alive and well and though the beam was narrow and completely inadequate, it was light. Dean swung his beam behind him and blinded Sam with the sudden onslaught of brightness.

"Damn it, Dean," Sam cursed. "Stop doing that."

He smirked but of course his brother couldn't see that so he kept his voice matter-of-fact. "I'm just checking that your still there, safe and sound."

"More like ready to save your ass, oh fearless leader. And yeah, I'm on top of it."

"Well good cuz…"

"Shhh," Sam sharply interrupted the bantering. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Dean swung the beam ahead of them and bounced it off the walls of the cavern for, oh, about two seconds. Nothing. He turned and gave Sam an unconcerned shrug.

Annoyed, Sam grabbed the flashlight from his brother. "You're going too fast, you'll never see anything that way."

Sam smoothly and efficiently scanned the corners and gullies. Still nothing, but at least they had a better idea of the space they were in. A three foot wide rocky ledge bordered the wall of the cavern which was about the length of a football field. The inky black water a foot below them gave no indication of depth and filled the cavern to the far wall. They could no longer make out the crevice through which they had come but knew it was still there among the crags. After that it was a ten minute creep back out through the mouth of the cave. Super fun times, Sam thought.

"Give me that," Dean snatched the flashlight back. "Shall we continue or do you want to set up the picnic blanket here?"

"I'm serious Dean, I heard something," Sam brooded, but continued to trudge closely behind his brother along the ledge.

Seconds later they both heard it. It was the type of sound that came with sensation as well; a swooping, wind rush above their heads. Close enough to raise the hairs on the back of their necks. Dean swung the beam towards the sound but… nothing. He put down their backpack of 'goodies' and brought the shotgun up against his shoulder, maintaining light on the ceiling the whole time. Sam too had his shotgun at the ready and had flicked on the flashlight taped to the barrel. The two beams scanned the roof of the cavern.

"Bats?" Dean questioned.

Sam tentatively shook his head. "Too big, I think."

"Not a spirit, no EMF, no light flickering," Dean waved his flashlight to illustrate his point.

Sam just nodded, eyes glued down the length of his gun.

"We should have brought flares, I can't see a damn thing," Dean complained. It was true; they had not anticipated the blinding darkness of the cave.

After a couple minutes of nothing Sam started to wonder if it knew they were looking for it and was hiding. It seemed to have a little more sense than your everyday bat and that was bad news. On top of that, their vision was limited to two very narrow beams of light, more bad news. He suddenly felt very unprepared.

"Well, we can't hunt it if we can't see it," he said to justify his next suggestion. "I think we better head back out and get some flares. If the past year of random attacks has indicated anything it'll still be here tomorrow."

Dean, hating to abandon an unfinished hunt, reluctantly agreed. They turn back towards the crevice through which they had come, Sam now in the lead.

It was only feet from the crevice that they felt the swooping again. This time it physically ruffled Sam's hair. Instinctively, they had both taken a defensive crouch and the light beams crisscrossed frantically above their heads.

"What the hell is it," Dean cursed, frustrated.

"Let's just get out of here until we can get the upper hand. Right now, it's too fast and accurate. Probably can see in the dark…"

Sam's words were barely out of his mouth when the rush of movement brought a flurry of wings and claws down upon his head. His arms were up in a moment, swatting at the mass of leather and fur. Big bat!? he thought. It didn't seem to mind the beating and instead sunk its' talons deep into his shoulder causing Sam to yell out in shock and pain. The powerful wings flapped incessantly and made it impossible to grab the creature. Was it was trying to carry him away?

"Dean!" What the hell was he doing? All he could see through the black was the spot of the flashlight dancing at his face.

"I can't get a shot if you keep moving…" the strained reply came from out of the dark.

"Screw that and get this thing off me!" The talons in his shoulder were beginning to pull at his flesh and it hurt like a bitch.

In a heartbeat he felt Dean beside him, hammering the bat thing with the stock of the gun. It didn't let go.

And then the cavern was filled with an ear piercing siren screech. Sam was nearly deafened, the ringing consumed his ears, the pain consumed his mind, and the flashlights lay abandoned on the ground. He didn't even notice the flock of bat things rain down and drive Dean back, away from his brother.

Dean's ears buzzed from the bat's wail as he was bombarded with four more of the creatures, talons scratching relentlessly at his face and arms. It seemed they were purposely driving him away from Sam. He swung the butt of the shot gun and very effectively bludgeoned one of the bats away. Then there were three; he had to get to Sam.

Through the flurry of wings he heard Sam roar in pain and saw him drop to the ground. Another step backwards and he could swing the gun up to get off a shot. As he did a pair of talons gripped his forearm and instantaneously another sensation lit up his senses with a fiery pain that surged through his nerves. A gunshot rang out… He felt dizzy, disorientated, and the world turned upside down as he lost his footing and plunged unaware into the shady waters.


	2. Chapter 2

TWO

A cough heaved from his chest to expel the water he had swallowed and with it came consciousness. Great. He was numb all over, cold, drained… Sam? He was being rolled towards a warm body, his brother's. He tried to choke out his name but more water came up, then a fit of intense coughing, gagging, and finally fresh air.

"Sam," he managed to spurt out.

"Geezus, thank god you're okay." Sam rubbed his brother's back in relief and empathy as another coughing fit briefly took over.

"Bats?" Dean's eyes peered into the dark. It was still black as ever in the cave and for all they knew the things could have been mere feet away. The illumination of the dying flashlight only reached as far as Sam's battered face.

"Scared them off with the shot gun, but we have to get out of here, now."

Dean nodded and sat up. The numbness was ebbing except in the arm that was attacked. It felt like anesthetised dead weight so he pulled it into his chest with his good arm. It was sticky with blood. Better to mention that later, once they were out of the cave. Thanks to the darkness Sam couldn't see it yet.

Sam, faring only slightly better than his brother, stood and helped Dean to his feet with his good arm. He was pretty sure he was missing a few flashy chunks from his own shoulder and the blood drained endlessly from the wound. In another few minutes they would be outside and safe. There would be time to be patched up then.

They both negotiated through the crevice and out of the cave in a laborious, tedious manner. It felt like hours before Sam felt the sunlight touch his face. He felt weak, shocky, must have lost a lot of blood. Unable to crawl more than a couple of feet from the cave opening he rolled onto his back and closed his eyes against the glare.

Dean was directly behind him and was feeling less like a drowned rat now that they were out of the dank cavern. The numbness in his arm was gradually being replaced with an aching burn. It was now crusted with blood and swelling efficiently but his arm could wait. He crawled to Sam's side and was appalled by his ashen expression.

"Sam?" he questioned sharply.

"Hmm…" was all Sam could muster as a reply. He just needed to get some rest, was sure he would feel better in the morning.

Shoulder sure hurt like hell… "Dean… shoulder." Dean would take care of it, like he always did, like they did for each other.

Was Dean okay? Seemed okay... All these thoughts drifted randomly through Sam's mind until he was too tired to hold it together and he let the warmth from the sun cradle him into unconsciousness.

Dean shook Sam as his eyes fluttered closed. "Sam! Dammit." He knew it was pointless but couldn't help the desperate plea for Sam to wake up. He had to take care of the bloody mess that was Sam's shoulder, stop the bleeding, patch him up, keep him warm, and get to Impala, all with one functional arm… geezus.

He tore the rags of Sam's shirt away from the wound and dug through the bag for the first aid kit. It was going to be impossible to stitch it closed, the bloody bat had actually torn a chunk right out of his brother. He packed on the gauze which quickly drank up the blood.

Sam was coming back around with all the manipulating and winced each time Dean put pressure on his shoulder.

"Sorry dude, gotta stop the bleeding."

Now came the hard part. With Sam lying on the ground and Dean with only one useful arm, wrapping the wound would be interesting. "Sam, you gotta help me out and sit up."

"Hmm, … okay." He struggled up and lean forward onto his knees. In a couple of minutes Dean had managed a figure eight bandage over Sam's shoulder and around his chest.

"Drink this," Dean ordered as he shoved a bottle of water under his brother's nose.

The fatherly tone in Dean's voice snapped Sam fully back to consciousness. He blinked a couple of times to adjust to the sunlight and the situation. "It took us an hour to hike up here," he mourned, looking dejectedly down the path, "so probably an hour plus to get back in this state." Not even aware of his brother's own weakened condition, Sam wasn't kidding.

Cold and wet to the bone, aching, drained, his arm throbbing worse and worse as the time passed, Dean pursed his lips as the situation indeed looked grim. But, he knew he had to stay strong for Sammy. "Yeah well, things could be worse. We could still be in the cave."

Sam smirked bleakly, clutching his sore arm tightly to his side.

"Here." Dean passed him the water bottle. "Drink some more, eat some cookies, and we'll build up your strength little soldier for the long trek home."

Sam took the water bottle and shook his head. "Jerk."

"Bitch."


	3. Chapter 3

THREE

Dean would only let himself be examined after Sam had eaten a couple of power bars and was looking more up to it. The food, water, and activity had returned Sam's fleshy color. Dean, on the other hand, had become rapidly weary and pale and couldn't effectively hide the fact that he just didn't feel like eating anything.

Sam studied his brother's face and then his arm, annoyed at his persistent stubbornness to ignore his own plight.

"Alright, I'm feeling much better," he stated as firmly as he could. "Now we need to clean up your mess." He was of course referring to Dean's arm with had swollen profusely and was caked in dried blood and mud.

After a couple of minutes of swabbing it as gingerly as he could Dean had had enough. It was obviously afire with pain and tenderness.

"Dammit Sam, just leave it alone." He clutched it protectively to his chest. At least it was enough that Sam could see what kind of damage had been done. It was scratched to hell and bleeding freely now that the temporary scabs had been removed. Most were deep enough that they would require sutures. But what was most concerning was the two puncture marks adorning Dean's toned bicep, inflamed and already purulent.

"Did one of them bite you?"

Dean looked down at his own mauled arm. "Hell if I know, I was a little occupied at the time."

"This doesn't look too good." Sam moved to palpate the bite but Dean flinched away.

"Doesn't feel too good either, but it's just a bite, some scratches, nothing deadly." Truth be told, all the poking and prodding had made Dean light headed and queasy. He would probably feel better once they started moving.

"Why is it swelling so fast and already looks infected, it doesn't make any sense. What kind of bite behaves that way?"

"Do you want to give it a spanking and send it to its' room?"

"Dean, this isn't funny."

"Whatever, we'll look at it when we get back to the motel. Let's just get going."

Sam didn't like the dismissal from his brother's injuries. Hadn't he been rather cooperative as Dean patched him up? But Dean's mind was made up and he was stuffing things back into the backpack.

"Okay, we'll head back but we at least let me wrap your arm. It's still bleeding and some pressure will help the swelling." Sam interrupted Dean's unspoken protest with reasoning which couldn't be rebuffed. "Besides, you don't want to bleed all over the Impala."

Dean grunted his displeasure. "Fine," he finally agreed.

Sam was able to gently wrap Dean's arm from wrist to shoulder in gauze and then, despite a string of curses and painful grimaces, wrapped it again tightly with a tensor bandage.

They packed up the remaining items and Dean stubbornly grabbed the sack and threw it over his shoulder. By this point Sam was tired of arguing and figured the faster they got back to the motel, the sooner they both could rest.

Dean lead the charge out of the woods which started ambitiously but rapidly dwindle to a steady traipse. Sam was at least grateful to be able to observe Dean from behind who would only grunt 'fine' when asked how he was doing.

It was only half an hour in when Dean started supporting himself on the occasional tree and their pace slowed some more. Sam's own strength and endurance was draining but he still felt alright considering; it was by no means an easy trek. Dean, on the other hand, was struggling hard even if he wouldn't admit it. Well, Sam would force him to rest.

"Dean," he panted, "I need to take a break." Dean didn't respond but paused and braced himself on a tree. The sudden stop shocked his legs and they shook with exhaustion, threatening to give out.

Sam had already sat on the forest floor with his back against a tree hoping his brother would follow suite. Dean finally turned to look at Sam. He looked ten times worse then when they started, pallid, sweat beading on his forehead and running down his neck, breathes coming in deep gasps.

"Dean, sit." Sam should have made him rest sooner.

With frightening obedience Dean dropped the bag between them and slid down the tree towards the ground in silence.

Sam dug through the sack for some bars. "You need to eat something if you want to make it to the car."

Dean shook his head as Sam passed him the food. "Don't feel good," he muttered and pushed Sam's hand away.

Sam shimmied closer to his brother and touched his forehead with the back of his hand. It was almost radiating heat. Dean brushed that hand away too.

"What the hell," Sam muttered under his breath but Dean heard him.

"Hmm, What?"

"Well, you're burning up."

"No shit Sherlock."

"It's only been a little over an hour. It's impossible for things to work that fast!"

Dean just shrugged at this, obviously not caring about the physiology behind how crappy he felt.

"We need to get back to town, now." Sam was already on his feet, his own fatigue and pains pushed from his mind. Dean, with the aid of the tree and his brother hauling on his good arm, managed to collect his wearisome legs beneath him but could not drag himself away from the support of the tree.

"Sam…" Dean no longer had the energy to maintain any pretence. "Go on without…"

"Don't be stupid," Sam cut him off. "I don't need to get back half as much as you do." He slung his brother's arm around his shoulder and pulled him forward. Most of Dean's weight now fell on Sam and pain tore through his wound as his muscles strained to hold his brother upright. "Dean, you gotta help me out and walk."

Without protest Dean laboriously stumbled forward, Sam beside him, as they continue the trek back to the Impala.


	4. Chapter 4

FOUR

They were only moving inches at a time. It was painstakingly slow and Sam felt his energy dwindling rapidly. They had been going for another half hour but it had felt like years. Stopping to lean against yet another tree, Sam looked back and could still make out their last resting spot in the impending dusk.

Dean was growing heavier and heavier as his energy was sapped away by the fever. Things were not looking good. Sam pulled his weight off the tree and was almost dragged down by his brother's dead weight. Stooping to keep Dean from crumpling to the ground he lowered him as gently as possible.

"Dean?" Through the dimming light Sam could see the sweat burnishing his clammy, pale face. His eyes were closed, passed out from fever and exhaustion.

"Dean, get up. I'm tired of hauling your sorry ass out of these freakin' woods." He sighed long and deep, then bent down to try a fireman carry. He wasn't sure how much further his own legs were going to take them. He tried to stand up with the weight but no amount of grunting and panting could convince his body that it should happen.

"crap," he mumbled and knelt down to set Dean back on the ground.

The jostling had roused Dean a bit and he groaned and rolled into a fetal position cradling the swollen arm. His clothes were still damp from the cavern lake and the setting sun took with it the warmth of day; despite the fever he began to shiver uncontrollably. Sam pulled Dean into his lap, hoping to share his body heat, then pulled his jacket from their rucksack and draped it over his chest.

"Might be sick," Dean mentioned as he continued to shake.

"Well, don't puke on me okay?" As Dean's troubling symptoms escalated Sam was having a harder time keeping things light. He reached into the jacket pocket and flipped open the cell phone to confirm that there was still no signal. In the glow of the phone Dean looked much worse and Sam quickly flipped it closed again.

"Okay, we'll just rest here until morning," Sam reasoned aloud. Really, what other choice did they have.

"I'll start a fire, okay." Dean nodded as Sam helped prop him against a large stump nearby. A couple of minutes later he had managed a small blaze which projected a comforting warmth. Dean was passed out against the stump, head lolling uncomfortably to the side but too tired to care. Sam roused him again with some water and two aspirins luckily found in the bottom of the first aid kit. He then moved him closer to the fire so he could a rest a little more warmly and comfortably.

Sam, too, had begun to doze off when the distant sound of snapping twigs pricked his senses. He pulled the shot gun up and aimed in the direction of the noise. It was deliberately moving towards them. Sam considered snuffing the fire but before he could a friendly greeting echoed through the trees toward him. This roused Dean who peered quizzically at Sam through bleary eyes.

"Hello?" Sam asked the dark beyond the trees. And then a figured stepped into the little clearing, tall, lean, and smiling in the glow of their fire.

"Ah, excellent! I figured this might be a friendly fire." The stranger didn't flinch at the gun pointed at him. Nor was he phased by their scratches and bandages, but found himself crossed-legged across the fire from Sam. "Hmm, Looks like you boys might have been spelunking?" Sam was a little taken aback by this blunt, cheery fellow, but out of all the things that had come at them in the woods he would gladly take this guy first and foremost. He placed the shot gun on the ground but remained on guard.

"Funny hour to be hiking..." He didn't want to seem rude or confrontational but why was this guy wandering alone through the woods at this hour?

"Yeah, I miss the lights of the cities." It was a roundabout answer that wasn't an answer at all.

Sam tried to study this guy a little more, but there just wasn't much to him. Wearing shorts, a flashy Hawaiian shirt and a large, bulging backpack he didn't quite fit into the outdoorsman picture, but then again, neither did they.

He recognized Sam's judging stare. "Name's Tristan, by the way." He leaned forward and stuck his hand out to Sam, a blazing grin on his face.

"Sam, and this is Dean." He indicated Dean who hadn't moved but was trying to keep his eyes on the stranger with an ill-defined stare.

The stranger took a look over Dean and frowned. "Bitten was he?"

Okay, so this guy wasn't some random midnight hiker. Sam was even more shocked by this, than the spelunking comment. This guy knew about the cave, and more so, about the creatures in it.

"Uh… well… yeah he was." Sam stuttered. Dean tilted his head to look at Sam, annoyed that he wasn't being more reserved with their situation. At this point Sam could have cared less, any help was welcomed.

"Well, then I suppose you better come with me."

"Come where?"

"A cabin, about another ten minutes from here. Well, okay, a shack. But I happen to have supplies and personnel for such an occasion." He patted the bulging pack he was carrying.

That sounded promising, if not bizarre beyond reason. The stranger was already standing and stomping out the fire. Dean's look, which only Sam could read past his fever, was now acidic. He would have given Dean's opinion more thought had they had that option, but this didn't seem entirely wrong, yet.


	5. Chapter 5

FIVE

After extinguishing the fire and propping Dean between the two of them they started out again through the woods. Sam found the stranger, Tristan, to be bearing almost all of Dean's weight for him.

At the same time he kept up a steady ramble of conversation as they made their way. "I saw the gun, the casual attire, the scratches and scars and figured hunters, for sure. But then I saw your makeshift fire and injuries and knew you'd been around the cave and were not in a good way. Doesn't take a genius to see that. Not too many people should be coming up here anymore. They closed the trail and have warnings posted everywhere… for a bear! Can you believe that? I couldn't, but hey that's the general population I guess." Sam was having a hard time following Tristan's train of thought.

"Are you from around here then?" he asked, figuring the guy for a know-it-all local, but that didn't explain how he knew about hunting.

"Hell no. I'm from Cali, born and raised. Rather be on a beach than in this forsaken area. We only got here last night but I am ready to hit the road. But, you know how it is, gotta finish the job first."

"The job…?" Sam was too tired and pained to dissect Tristan in his head and the question just slipped out.

"Yeah, the job, the hunt, the nasties in the cave." Was this guy saying what he thought he was saying, that he was a hunter too?

"You're hunting?" Sam paused to collect his thoughts. And Tristan was forced to stop with Dean hanging half conscious between them.

"Why the hell else would we come out here. Frikin' woods is full of bugs, ticks, ugh. Hate those damn things, give me a vengeful spirit any day." Sam was speechless at this point. "Come on then, we're almost there." He indicated a light through the trees in front of them.

A couple more minutes and the light had grown into two windows set in the small frame of a log cabin. Around the side was the door and Tristan nudged it open with his shoulder, hauling Dean in behind him. Sam followed them into the musty room and found two more guys sitting around a small table staring wide-eyed back at him.

"Hello boys," Tristan greeted them before they could voice their shock. "Found a couple of comrades in the forest. They need a bit of help, especially this one." Dean hung lamely off of Tristan's shoulder, oblivious to the new surroundings.

One of the guys at the table stood and came to Dean placing his hand on his forehead. "You guys were at the cave? Was he bitten?" He address Sam who numbly nodded. "Better lie him on the other cot then." Tristan cocked his head and shuffled Dean towards a crotchety bed, passing the pack to his companion as he passed.

This new stranger turned to Sam, guarded but friendly. "Well," his eyes flickered from Sam's gun, which hung from his hand, to his bandaged shoulder, but remained calm and unconcerned. They really were hunters.

"I guess you've obviously met Trist, I'm Jack, that's Gordon," he pointed to his other buddy still watchful from the table. "And that's Darrin." He gestured towards the corner with the two beds but Sam could only see a bundle of blankets occupying the other one. "Have a seat, looks like you got a little beat up too." Sam warily sat across from Gordon, who had decided he was no longer a threat and went back to reading a large, title-less, antiqued book.

After depositing Dean on the cot Tristan had rejoined the group. "Hope the supplies are adequate, Doc," he said addressing Jack and nodding at the sack he had brought in. "Figure that Dean wasn't bitten too long ago, not nearly as bad as Darrin, right Sam?"

The question caught Sam off guard as his brain was still a little muggy from the past couple of hours, "uh yeah, about three hours ago."

Jack nodded at this and took the satchel over to the two beds. Sam was feeling guilty and a little apprehensive about letting these strangers take over, but he wasn't feeling so hot himself.

Tristan must have read the trepidation in his eyes. "Don't worry, mate. Jack trained to be a paramedic before he started hunting. I just had to run out and grab him some supplies. Darrin was bitten last night. Bastards actually escaped the cave as we were scouting the perimeter. Came out of the trees and..."

"Trist," Gordon looked up sharply from the book and snapped, "shut the hell up."

Trist blew off the reprimand. "No, it's okay Gordo, these guys are investigating the cave too."

Gordon cocked his eyebrow. "Oh really?"

"Really truly, right Sam? Hunters through and through."

"Yeah…"

He could feel Gordon dissecting and then analyzing his every feature. However, his once over was brief and thorough and then he was ready to move on.

"Huh, never have run into hunters working the same job before, imagine that. Well, I suppose you do look the part." He grabbed a mug and the pot of coffee which was on the wood burning stove behind him and passed the steaming brew over. "Sam, right? That's got some kick to it," he warned.

"I could use some kick." Maybe it was God's good grace that Tristan had stumbled upon them. It still shocked Sam at the size of the hunting community. They seemed to stumble into more and more of them as they made their way.

"So, were you actually in the cave?" Gordon asked as he inched himself closer to listen.

"Yeah, we were attacked in the inner cavern, though to be honest we didn't know what we were up against."

"At least you got in!" Tristan huffed. "fuckers attacked us before we even got to explore."

"Well, you two were idiots and couldn't wait until morning. I told you that it was possible that they would leave the cave at night to go hunting." It was obvious that Tristan often got on Gordon's nerves.

Tristan shrugged away the insult. "I was bored, didn't want to wait."

"Yeah well, tell that to Darrin."

"He wanted to come!"

"Bull crap, you pressured him into going, because he wouldn't have normally. He's not some dumb shit like you."

"Whoa, guys!" Jack said from across the room. "Chill out, we have company."

Gordon huffed, Tristan shrugged.

Gordon turned back to Sam. "So what exactly went down once you got in the cave?"

And Sam proceeded to regale them with the attack in the cavern.


	6. Chapter 6

SIX

Dean stirred at Sam's voice from across the room. Why did he sound so far away? At least it was warmer and softer here. Where was here? He could only remember snippets of moving through the forest, Sam on one side, a stranger on the other…

Someone had begun to unwrap his bandaged arm. Every movement ached, every touch seared with pain. "Sam…" he mouthed piteously, too weak to protest the treatment.

Dean trembled a bit as Jack worked but he was quick and gentle as he removed the makeshift bandaged. Now that the damage was visible Jack grimaced at the state of his arm; swollen, inflamed, purulent gaping wounds along the length of it, and the two bite marks radiating a fouled heat.

He had had the luck to flush Darrin's wounds immediately while the anaesthetic of the bite had still been present. But as that had worn off Darrin had become rapidly feverish and violently ill, not to mention the pain that raced electrically from the bite through to every nerve. In hours the toxins from the bite were causing severe septic shock and if left untreated would lead to organ failure and… well… eventually death. A grim reality that Jack hadn't completely shared with his team yet.

Jack had sent Trist off this morning to acquire the necessary drugs and supplies from the nearest hospital and had been waiting nervously for his return, keeping a constant vigil at his friend's side. Right before Trist's return Darrin had fallen deeply asleep after hours of agitated delirium, which time would tell to be a blessing or a curse.

Jack would have liked nothing better than to start pumping him with a juicy medical cocktail, but triage dictated that this unknown hunter had a better chance. He reluctantly looked away from Darrin and back at the mutilated arm.

Dean was already stirring uncomfortably from the bandage removal; to purge and flush the wounds was going to be excruciating. So be it, it had to be done.

Jack looked back towards the table of hunters and caught Sam in one of his innumerable glances towards his brother. "I'm going to need a second pair of hands." Sam was up in a flash and with a couple of long strides beside Jack in seconds.

"I need to flush these wounds to get rid of the pus and toxins. He's not going to like it. It'll be painful, almost unbearable."

Sam numbly nodded at Jack. He didn't like the idea of causing Dean pain but there was no other way, his arm looked ghastly and at this point Sam wondered how it would ever completely heal. He gulped down the lump in his throat that had formed looking at his pallid, ailing brother. "What can I do?"

"Someone needs to hold him down, and someone else," Jack raised his voice so Gordon and Trist would hear him, "needs to hold his arm still."

Sam nodded and sat beside Dean on the other side of the bed. He grasped his shoulders, ready to press him into the bed should be try to get up.

Gordon had come over and was manoeuvring around Jack so he could hold the arm effectively.

Dean opened his hazy eyes to all the movement around him.  
"Sammy?" he murmured. "Where…?" He tried to focus on the two strangers to his left.

"Your arm's in pretty bad shape," Jack tried to explain to him. "We need to flush the wounds, do a few sutures. Unfortunately we don't have any local anaesthetic to do it with."

Dean had lost interest in this doctor-type babble and was already looking back at Sam, searching for clarification in his brother's eyes.

"Dean," Sam said, their eyes locked into each others, reading deep, as only brother's could. "This is going to hurt… like a bitch."

After a moment Dean gave the slightest of nods and sucked in a breath to brace himself.

"Ready?" Jack asked, everyone tensed in response. Jack placed the point of a syringe into the first of Dean's countless wounds and depressed the antiseptic saline into the cavity.

Dean's body became rigid as the pressurized flush brushed and burned his exposed, raw nerves. His breath hitched in the bottom of his lungs, an explosive scream of pain locked down as well. Teeth clenched, agony rushing his body, he didn't even realized that Jack had already cleansed three of the gashes and was moving quickly up towards the bite wound.

In a long, drawn out minute they had worked up to his elbow and Jack paused to let Dean suck in breath after anguished breath.

Sam tried to read past his brother's pallor and perspiration to see how he was making out. He definitely seemed more alert, and his lower arm looked fresh and bloody but healthy, indicating the necessity for the unbearable treatment.

Dean spotted Sam eyeing him up as he huffed and puffed through the now ebbing pain. The intense torture of flushing the wounds had been sobering and had, for the moment, cleared the fog from his mind.

He could tell now that they were in a small one roomed cabin. The guys to his left looked normal enough, clean cut, lean and toned, much like Sam and himself.

Regardless of who they were, he had tried to repress his suffering as best he could and had managed thus far to keep his curses, groans, and most impressively, the overwhelming nausea at bay.

His small consolation was that whoever the company was Sam seemed okay with it. Either that or he was just too consumed with worry that he didn't give a shit who was helping them out.

Dean would have told him to chill and not worry so much but that was a little too chick-flicky right now, especially, especially in front of these guys.

"Okay, ready for the last bit?" The guy who kept sticking his arm was set to start again. So, just to prove that he was up for it, he nodded robustly at the group surrounding him and braced himself for more agony.


	7. Chapter 7

SEVEN

The last hour had been taxing and if it wasn't for his brotherly vigil Sam was ready to take a very long nap.

After cleansing the rest of Dean's scratches it had taken a long time to stitch them up. Some were left open because the swelling had prevented their edges from coming together, but already Sam could tell that Dean's arm was shrinking back to normal size. Jack had hooked him up to a slow IV drip of ringers infused with antibiotics, and given him more aspirin as well as an anti-inflammatory.

Presently he was sleeping restlessly, tossing and turning as the fever raged, prominent again now that the doctoring had ended. Sam sat on his bedside, mopping his sweaty brow with a cool cloth, his own shoulder cleaned, sutured to the extent allowed, and freshly bandaged.

Jack was now nursing his own friend who hadn't stirred since their arrival. Sam thought it quite gallant of him to treat strangers first over one of their own.

Gordon had gone back to pouring through texts at the table, glancing anxiously towards Darrin and Jack. It was evident that he was getting frustrated. After several books had been tossed aside he got up to pace the floor.

Tristan was reclining casually in front of the stove, a book open on his lap, unread for the last half hour. "Heya Gordo, any luck with your stack?"

Gordon shot him a furious glare. "More than yours, no doubt! You haven't read a thing! Maybe you'd be more useful scouting around the cave, soaking up some venom so we could have more to worry about."

Trist closed his text calmly, but clearly miffed. "Well, okay then, maybe I will, because so far all your book learning has been useless. At least, I've seen them! You don't even know what your looking for. All you've got is some dumb cousin's stories."

"At least I didn't tramp up there unprepared and unaware and now Darrin's dying. Dying, you dumb ass, so fix that one! Since you know it all, fix him." This Gordon guy could lay the guilt on thick, Sam was feeling it himself. In a couple more hours was Dean destine for the same deep and deadly coma that had claimed Darrin?

"Hey!" Jack snapped from the corner, pulling Sam's mind back to the current dispute. "Cool it you two! Your arguing is not helping."

Tristan and Gordon both shut up.

Jack let out a sigh and turned contemplatively back to Darrin's bed. "The way I see it," he said fiddling with the IV bag he had just hooked up, "is that this is a venomous bite, plain and simple. The effects of it we can counter to a point, but in the end we need some specific cure or the poison will just keep working until… well until…" He couldn't spit it out. "Anyway, if it's anything like snake venom we need to harvest it from one of the creatures and create an antivenom."

"Well, that sounds easy," Trist sarcastically commented from his side of the cabin.

"I don't see any other way." Jack glanced at Dean trembling under the blankets and then at his friend's lifeless form. "And we need to be getting it fast."

"Good, let's go now!" Trist was elated to be getting to back to the cave, guns a-blaze.

"We are going to plan this first," Gordon stated and Trist sat back down disappointed. "We need to combine everything we know about these things."

"More pointless reading?" Trist asked annoyed.

"No, I mean practical knowledge. What you saw, what Sam saw, what my cousin told me. Let's put it all together first and figure out how to catch one of these things." Gordon sat back down at the table and Sam almost thought he was about to start taking notes. This guy was putting general organization to shame.

"Okay, let's see," Gordon continued. "Sam said they were attacked by at least three, right?" He looked to Sam for confirmation and he nodded. "Darrin was attacked by one. There was only one, right Trist."

"Yeah yeah, but we were outside the cave."

"I know, about an hour past sundown. So let's say they hunt at dusk…"

"Fair enough," Tristan agreed.

"Hunt for what?" Sam asked, hoping Gordon's cousin had given him a better lead than the string of missing campers that Dean and himself had been following.

"Food, I'm speculating. Probably animals for the most part, the rare human as they stumble upon one. And they take it back to the cave…? Which would account for all the missing people."

"And also why Dean and I were attacked inside the cave during the day. The further we went in, the closer we got to … their nest," Sam said finishing Gordon's thought.

"Exactly," Gordon fed off of Sam's epiphany. "Your presence probably disturbed their sleep."

"But, there's no way one could carry a human. I should know," Sam rubbed his shoulder at the memory.

"So do they hunt in packs? That's going to be important," Trist remarked. "I don't want to go looking for one and stumble upon five."

"Most likely not," Sam answered him. "We were only attacked by one initially. When it found it couldn't carry me off alone it actually called for help." The memory of the shriek was almost as painful as his shoulder.

"That's encouraging."

"To a degree," Gordon interjected. "We still don't know what they are, and therefore what to use to injury or kill one."

"All we need to do is catch one! Come on Gordo, time is seriously starting to run out." They started arguing again at this, but quietly and more purposefully this time.

Sam was beginning to feel the urgency as well. He had decided that his time would be best served going along on the hunt. It was a given that Jack was staying behind to care for Darrin and Sam felt Dean could not be entrusted to someone better. Jack had proven that when we had chosen to treat Dean first.

Dean had fallen quite silent as Sam had been absorbed in the analytic conversation. Only now did he notice his brother resting so quietly beside him. It was disturbing after watching Darrin lie the same way, unresponsive for hours on end.

Sam nudged Dean's arm and whispered a 'hey' lightly into his ear. Dean's eyelids flickered but that was all.

He felt a hand on his should and turn to find Jack standing behind him. "It's good he's resting."

"You'll watch him if I go on the hunt?"

"You want to go with those two! You'd be better to stay here and rest your shoulder some more."

"They may need an extra man. I feel I should do something to help you guys out, to help Dean…" he looked longingly at his brother and prayed for him to be better.

Jack understood immediately where he was coming from and would be going on the hunt himself if he didn't have two patients under his care. "Of course, I'll watch Dean. Though I will warn you that he's likely to get a lot worse in the next couple hours…" Jack looked from Sam to Dean. "He's your brother right?"

Sam nodded. "How did you know?"

"I could just tell. There's friends and then there's brothers. We," he gestured around the cabin, "are just friends." Jack looked towards Darrin as he spoke and Sam saw, despite what was said, that friendships could run just as deep. "We won't get the antitoxin in before his fever peaks. He's going to need you here when that happens."

"How long until then?"

Jack checked his watch. "A little over an hour."

"Then we better be quick." Gordon said from across the room as he packed a bag full of supplies.

Sam was not looking forward to meeting the 'bats' again, but for Dean he'd face a thousand of them.


	8. Chapter 8

EIGHT

They had packed their bags full of every type of ammo they could think of from silver, to salt, to plain old fashion bullets. More importantly was a steel mesh net that was going to trap one so they could milk some venom into their makeshift venom collector.

If the situation wasn't so dire Sam would have found the idea really amusing; he knew Dean would have found it hilarious.

It was a rough plan backed by very little knowledge and had the potential to play out quite differently. Regardless, Gordon was intent on bringing some venom back and had intention to enter the cave if they weren't attacked outside first.

"Nothing like a midnight hunt, heya Sam?" Trist said as he eagerly pulled on the third backpack. Sam nodded unenthusiastically. "I'm locked, I'm loaded, let's head out, boys!"

Trist seemed just a little too excited and Sam was bothered by his lack of respect for the job. He didn't seem to show any remorse or worry for his fallen comrade, whom he had been the sole backup for.

Sam could now see why Gordon had minimal patience for his attitude, too hot-headed and unpredictable. He was a loose cannon and that was a dangerous type of person to hunt with.

Gordon on the other hand was meticulous, thorough, and so far had things planned down to the last bullet. Then again, that didn't make someone a good hunter. Sam didn't know if either of these guys could aim, shoot, be there when it mattered, stand up to the horrors that a hunter saw from gig to gig.

He was more than nervous about heading out with these two strangers. It was bad enough to be doing anything without Dean, but Sam was lost as to how else to help him. If there was anyone to trust wholly it was Jack, who needed the antivenom for Darrin just as badly as a Winchester's life depended on it.

Sam took one last glance at Dean, who thankfully was resting quietly for the most part. Every now and then he would shift uncomfortable in his dreamless sleep.  
Jack nodded to Sam with as much reassurance as he could before Sam followed Tristan and Gordon out into the dark forest.

The tall evergreens blocked the moonlight completely and shrouded the path towards the cave in the black of midnight. Sam kept his flashlight trained on Tristan's feet trudging in front of him, ears open for any sounds of attack.

"Trist, how long from the cabin to the cave," Gordon asked.

"Hmm, maybe a half hour in the dark, fifteenish by the spry at daylight."

"By the spry?"

"Yeah, you know me and Darrin… uh well, what I mean is young and spry."

"Hmph," was all Gordon said in response to the mention of Darrin.

Tristan sighed, "yeap, half an hour stumbling through the forest with Mr Chuckles, whoo hoo."

"You know Trist, this is not some game. We are not doing this for shits and giggles."

"Really? Cuz this is a razor Saturday night in my books." At least this statement from Tristan was full of sarcasm. "Anyway," he continued before Gordon could retort, "how did you get into hunting there, Sam?"

Sam had been content with just following them for the time being while they bickered their way to the cave. He was a little thrown off guard by the random question.

"Uh well, my dad was a hunter..." Sam was reluctant to give more detail than that, even though they all knew a hunter's story was never so simple.

However, Tristan didn't notice the vague response. "Oh yeah? So you've been doing this a long time then." He was more than happy to shift the focus away from another argument. "Myself, only been doing it for a couple years so far. Gordon's seasoned though. He's my inspiration." Sam could just imagine Gordon rolling his eyes at this.

"So, what got you into hunting then?" Sam asked to keep the conversation going.  
Trist eagerly began to divulge his life story. "Well, I suppose it was when I met these fellows, what, about 3 years ago. They had come to work some surfer ghost who was drowning the locals."

"Damn near almost drown you, you fool, " Gordon interrupted.

"Yeah, that too, but after you've been exposed to ghosts and shit, it stays with you. You feel compelled to fight the evil."

"Holy crap dude," Gordon interrupted him again turning around to face him, stopping their progress. "Cut the bullshit. You were just looking for something to do and if it had been up to me we would have made an effort to lose you after you tracked us down the third time. But Jack and Dare, well they said it would be alright to let you stay on. Three years, Trist… so help me if Dare's not okay" He turned back around and marched more purposefully towards the cave.

The tension remained thick in the silence. Sam didn't ask any more questions and Tristan had also wisely chosen to stay quiet.

They had to be getting close. Sam was almost praying that the attack would happen outside of the cave. He dreaded the idea of fighting the creatures in the darkness of the cavern again. At least they had some flares this time. And then, quite quickly, they were facing a wall of rock and the entrance to the cave.

"Huh, well here we are and no attacks so far," Trist said as they gathered at the mouth. "I guess the plan is to go in at this point." He pointed his flashlight toward Gordon who was nodding.

They were both about to turn towards the cave when Sam grabbed Gordon's shoulder. "Hang on a sec, did you hear that."

Gordon didn't say anything but was still as a stone.

"I didn't hear anything," Trist piped up.

"Shh," Gordon shot at him.

There it was again, a rustling in the trees. Sam placed his pack on the ground and brought his shotgun to his shoulder without a sound.

Gordon had done the same and had entrusted the net to Tristan. "Don't let it bite anyone," he needlessly whispered.

Sam stepped forward and pointed his gun to the tree tops. The first two noises had sounded just to their left, but a then a third and fourth rustle emerged from a tree to the right and directly in front of them.

Gordon moved up beside Sam and their eyes met briefly. He could see the trepidation as clear as day on Gordon's face. After swallowing his fear he looked back towards the dark treetops silhouetted against the night sky.

"Oh shit," Trist hissed behind them, voicing what they all were thinking.


	9. Chapter 9

NINE

Jack was sitting on Darrin's bedside, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. A couple of texts lay scattered on the floor. Jack had tried to be productive as his two patients fought a lone battle against the poisons shutting down their bodies. He was feeling quite useless and lost, and it was frustrating to have done everything he could without an ounce of change in their conditions.

Darrin was comatose, sinking deeper into shock as the minutes ticked by. His blood pressure was only maintained by the fluids, the fever had long ago changed to deathly cold, clamminess. Jack sat listening to his shallow breaths rhythmically move in and out. Occasionally, they would hitch in his chest and Jack would hold his breath as well until Darrin's breathing resumed.

Dean wasn't there yet. His fever was still on the rise he had already started to show signs of delirium. The infection would also be peaking with malaise and seizures. Jack had watched Darrin go through it, helpless to do a thing.

The medications Tristan had stolen were too late for Darrin, but hopefully they would be able to help Dean through the episodes until they had the antivenom.  
The antivenom in itself was a whole other obstacle that Jack would face when, and if, the time came. He could only prey that the hunt for the venom proved successful.

***

It was dark again. Dean didn't know where he was but he knew he was alone.  
"Sam?" He mouthed the words but no sound emerged from his lips. The silence was complete. He could sense a menacing presence somewhere in the void. He sat down and curled tightly into himself. Why wasn't Sam with him? The dark wouldn't have seemed so empty if his brother was near.

Suddenly, there was a spot of light, the tiniest speck of flame off in the distance. It began to grow and spread and soon there was a wall of fire in front of him. The warmth was menacing and terrifying; more so than the darkness had been. It remained at bay for a few seconds, trying to overcome the void, and then it burst forward in a mad fury toward Dean. He covered his head but nothing could shield him for the intensity of the inferno. It engulfed him and then rushed through every nerve in his body. He opened his mouth to scream but the flames raced down his throat and to the pit of his very being, consuming him.

***

Dean's faint moan for Sam roused Jack from his pensive worries. He hadn't noticed Dean beginning to thrash under the blankets, shaking his head back and forth like he was locked in some kind of nightmare.

He glanced at Darrin who was the same… shifting his attention to Dean would make no difference to his condition.

He grabbed the case of drugs and moved over to Dean's bed. He could feel the heat emanating from him as he drew closer. He grabbed the pail of water Gordon had retrieved from a nearby stream early in the day and soaked a couple of cloths in it.

He was about to placed one on Dean's forehead when suddenly, his whole body stiffened like a board, a painful grunt escaping through his clenched jaw. Seconds later he began convulsing violently, twisting from side to side, then up and down, as if he were trying to thrown himself from the bed.

It was all Jack could do to hold the arm with the intravenous steady, he needed the line patent. He grabbed a syringe of valium he had pre-emotively filled and tried to steady the port so he could inject it. After a frustrating few seconds he managed to get the needle into the line and pushed the drug; within seconds the seizure would be over.

Unfortunately, with one last vicious spasm Dean violently flung his head towards the bar at the head on the cot, a terrible thud marking the force of the connection. Blood spattered the pillow as his body grew limp, head lolling awkwardly against the bar.

"Shit, shit, shit," Jack mourned as he pulled Dean back down onto the pillow. He grabbed one of the wet cloths and pressed it to the side of Dean's head. Things were not going well. The cloth was already saturated with blood. Jack was more than aware of the bleeding habits of a head wound but it didn't make it easier to control.

He did a quick check to make sure the head wound was his only other complication at that point. The twisted blankets had actually restrained the seizure a bit, a small blessing.

Jack wondered how long the valium would hold off any further seizing activity. Darrin had gotten to the point of episodes every fifteen minutes and that had lasted for hours. Regardless, Jack hoped that he would see the return of Sam before that happened again.

Dean actually groaned as Jack placed another damp cloth on the wound. He meekly tried to push Jack away.

"Sam?…" His eyes flickered open and danced across Jack's face. "Sam," he muttered, "hurts."

"Sam's not here. He'll be back soon,." Jack pointlessly responded. He knew Dean was in a different place, where what happened in the cabin was worlds away.


	10. Chapter 10

TEN

The trees had grown silent, the hunters were still, poised for action. Nobody spoke or moved, they were waiting for the attack from the trees. Minutes passed and nothing happened.

Sam, however, had no doubt that the creatures were waiting up there, watching for the right moment. He turned and looked meaningfully at Gordon, "it's just an animal, nothing to worry about."

Gordon nodded, understanding Sam's real intentions immediately. Whether or not the creatures understood English was a mystery, but they would be able to see the group drop their guard. Gordon and Sam both purposefully relaxed.

"Wait, are you nuts?" Trist asked in a panic. "You think there's just a couple of squirrels bounding around up there!!"

"Trist," Gordon hissed under his breath, "shut up and chill out."

"No, I'm serious. That's definitely the bat creature thingies up there!" He dropped the net and pulled at the shotgun slung across his back, clumsily trying to load it.

Gordon grabbed the gun to still Tristan's frantic movements and pulled him close.  
"We know, okay," he whispered into his ear. "You are making a fool of yourself, now chill out." He shoved him roughly backwards. "Let's head into the cave," he said at regular volume. "You first, Trist." This order was follow by a fierce glare that Tristan didn't question and he crouched immediately under the rocky overhang and into the mouth of the cave. Sam and Gordon turned to follow him, their backs to the trees.

In was mere seconds later that Sam's defences pricked as he felt a rush of wind plunging towards him. His back was still turned and if he timed this right… He waited one millisecond longer than he could stand then swung around forcefully, thrusting the stock of his gun into the air. It connected soundly with the creature and knocked it to the ground, where it thrashed wildly, trying to regain its' senses.

Tristan had dropped the net, but where, damn it. Gordon was on top of it though, and dove towards the creature ensnaring it.

"The jar, the jar," he was yelling as the monster whipped about, barely restrained. Sam spun around and madly dug through Gordon's discarded pack coming up triumphantly with the venom collecting device.

He was about to put their plan into action when the night was filled with the bone-chilling shriek of the bat. The treetops came alive with one, two…five other creatures all swooping in calculated arcs, assessing the situation. Sam brought the shot gun up again and tracked as many as he could against the dark sky, but they were holding back for the moment.

"Tristan," Gordon grunted. "Where the hell are you?" He had pinned the netted one's wings to its side, but it was still flailing about and it took all of Gordon's attention to hold on to it.

A gunshot shattered the air behind Sam; the aim was haphazard and it ricocheted off a random tree. The creatures drew back a bit. Tristan was crouching under the outcrop of the cave, wildly waving his gun up at the threatening skies. Well, it helped a bit.

Sam took the opportunity to join Gordon on the ground near the snapping head of the bat. It was biting at the air frantically but was unable to reach any human flesh. Sam shoved their device towards the reaches of the fangs and sure enough it eagerly bit through the tanned hide covering the jar several times. Sam couldn't see the venom being deposited, but prayed that it was working.

He jerked his hand backward as the bat realized its bites were ineffective and lunged instead for his real flesh. When it missed it squealed again, short and angrily this time.

There were more gunshots as the bats circled lower. Tristan uselessly unloaded his rounds into the sky then paused to snatch more ammo out of his bag.

This was the opening the winged monster had been waiting for. Quick as lightning two broke from their circling and dove towards the two hunters on the ground.

Sam, helplessly on his knees, jar in one hand, shotgun in the other, was suddenly consumed by wings and talons. He dropped the jar and brought his arm up to protect his face from the mauling claws. The creature flapped forcefully at him, driving him backwards as he stumbled to his feet. This felt very familiar, except now they were trying to save one of their own.

Beyond the beating of the wings the night had come alive with shrieks and gunshots. Someone was yelling something, a bullet whizzed over Sam's head. He brought the butt of the gun forward and started hammering relentlessly at the bat. It dropped back but its place was immediately filled with a larger companion who took a flying pass at Sam's head, raking his forehead and scalp into three longs strips of crimson. The searing pain nearly blinded Sam, but he struggled through it and brought his shotgun up, forcing his eyes to focus on the next attack.

He squeezed the trigger as one flew menacingly towards him, talons outstretched towards his eyes. Bang - it dropped heavily to the ground. Sam swung around to find the larger one. It had pulled back after the shot went off and was circling at a safe distance again.

Then, without warning, it took off over the rocks of the cave, calling for its' companions as it withdrew into the distance. The remaining three took off immediately after it. In seconds the only sound perceptible to Sam was his own intense breathing.


	11. Chapter 11

ELEVEN

Sam dropped to his knees and wiped away the blood flowing freely into his eyes. He was feeling pretty dizzy and a monstrous headache was pulsing underneath the wounds. But overall it was just a flesh wound and nothing that would prevent him from getting back to Dean. He closed his eyes and pressed a palm to his head to try to stop the world from spinning.

A couple of deep breaths and he was able to open his eyes to survey the condition of his companions. Gordon was flat on his back, gun still pointed in the direction of the retreat.

Trist had ventured out from the safety of the outcrop. He kicked at the monster still ensnared in the net. It had been shot dead. "Do you think they're coming back?" His voice was meek and trembling.

"Doesn't matter," Gordon grunted as he rolled over and pulled himself to his knees, stopping to catch his breath. "We need to get back." He got shakily to his feet and in the moonlight Sam could see his arms were slick with blood.

He examined his own forearm which he had used as a shield. It was scratched apart and sore, minor wounds in the grand scheme of things, but most importantly didn't appear to have been bitten.

Gordon held out a hand to Sam, who grabbed the jar at his feet and stood up as well. Held up under the flashlight they could see a small amount of mucus rolling around inside the container. Despite his pains Sam allowed himself a moment of hope.

He grabbed one of the packs which had been tossed aside and carefully stowed the jar away, then slung it on his back. Wiping the blood away again, he pressed his hand to the gashes on his forehead to staunch the bleeding.

"Do you guys need some bandaging before we head out?" Trist asked looking tentatively from Sam to Gordon. Tristan had managed to remain spotless and unmarred.

Sam nodded agreement even though he was anxious to head back. "I just need some gauze and a roll, just for the walk back." Trist handed him the supplies and Sam proceed to wrap his forehead as tight as he could. At least he wouldn't have any more blood in his eyes.

"Gordo, how 'bout you?"

Gordon was crouched by one of the bodies. In one swift movement he sliced off its head. "Better that it stays dead," he said as he stood.

"Hey Gordon," Sam ventured, "you weren't bit were you."

"Uh no." He looked down and assessed his bloody arms. "Just scratched to hell."

"What about back here," Tristan said from behind him, motioning to a dark sticky patch on Gordon's lower back.

He lifted his shirt to reveal a slash large enough for a kidney transplant. He tried unsuccessfully to turn and see it. "Is it bad?"

"Best to wrap it, just in case" Tristan answered vaguely.

"Be quick," Gordon said and looked expectantly to the sky, which had lightened significantly since they had first left the cabin.

They lumbered back to the cabin in silence, the carcass of the last bat swinging from the net in Tristan's hand. Sam was never happier to see the glow of cabin lights. Besides feeling drained he was eager to get back to Dean. Hopefully, Jack's prediction was off and Dean would be feeling much better. They had to have been gone for hours now.

Sam entered the cabin first and was startled to find his brother convulsing erratically, taken over by one intense, aggressive fit. Jack was practically sitting on his arm trying to inject something.

"Help," he grunted, trying to keep Dean from flopping off the bed.

Sam was at his side in less than a second, all pains and thoughts out of his head.

He grasped his shoulders, "Dean!" His eyes were rolled back in his head as great spasms rocked through him. "What's happening," Sam demanded.

Jack didn't answered, he had managed to get his needle into the IV line and was injecting something. Seconds after the medication hit Dean's blood stream he instantaneously relax.

Sam patted his cheek gently, "Dean?" Dean's eyes remained closed, he was burning up like a angry furnace, sheets soaked in sweat, a new bandage around his head.

He looked at Jack with the intention of angrily asking what the hell had happened, but his resentment dissipated when he saw Jack kneeling beside his brother's bed utterly strained and exhausted.

Jack met his eyes, genuine worry filling his face. "Things have been rough." That was an understatement Sam thought looking down at his brother again.

"Is he okay?"

"I won't go so far as to say okay…"

"Well, what's happening, how long had he been like this?" Looking at his brother the guilt set in upon him heavily. How could he have left him like this, with a stranger? Did he really think he was doing Dean more of a favour by running off on a hunt? Wouldn't it have been just a successful if he had stayed behind? A million what ifs that tore him apart the more he thought about it.

"It just started to get bad," Jack lied when in reality he had been trying to control the fits for a least an hour, some much worse than the one Sam had witnessed. "I figure it's a neurological toxin so the seizures are part of the poisoning. Valium stops them… if I can get it in, but," he massaged his temples in frustration, "everything about this poison is so fucking fast." He rubbed his weary eyes, then pinched the bridge of his nose letting out an exasperated sigh. "The valium is just consumed, it doesn't last longer than a couple of minutes."

Sam was barely listening, focused on mopping the sweat from his brother's face. He fingered the bandage around Dean's head, mirroring his own wound management.

"He smashed his head on the cot's frame," Jack explained feeling quite blameworthy that he had not anticipated such a problem. He had since wrapped some thick blankets over the bar. "It was my fault, I should have been more prepared…"

"Don't worry about it," Sam interrupted him turning to look Jack in the face, hoping he could see how thankful he was becoming. At least he had left Dean in good care; even he would not have known how to better manage the seizures.

"Now, we just need to get some antitoxin out of the venom and then it's happily ever after, right?" Trist asked from the doorway.

Jack frowned deeply, "yeah… about that…"


	12. Chapter 12

TWELVE

Sam was worried about the trepidation in Jack's voice. He hadn't thought beyond getting the venom but now he realized he had no idea where to go from here. How were they just going to create a cure in time to save Dean. Sam felt a pit of worry lodge in his stomach. What would he do if they couldn't save Dean? Well, that just wasn't an option; he looked expectantly at Jack.

After the tension of Dean's last seizure had died away Jack was able to gather himself together. He had been so focused on his patient that he hadn't notice the condition of the hunters when they had come through the door. Two of them were a bloody mess, Tristan was immaculate in comparison. His train of thought changed immediately to concern. "Are you guys okay?"

"Mmhmm," Gordon said as stepped passed Trist and lowered himself into one of the wooden chairs. He was obviously in need of some serious attention. "Sam's got something for you."

Sam reached down to the pack he had dropped without thinking in his haste to be at Dean's side. He opened it and pulled out the jar with its precious contents. He reached across Dean's body and handed it to Jack.

Jack tilted the jar back and forth, savouring the movement of the venomous mucus inside. "Geez, in theory it was a plan… but here it actually is."

"Why are you shocked, you said we had to get it!" Trist said a little exasperated that Jack was so surprised at their success. He tossed the body he was still carrying to the floor.

"Tristan," Gordon said weary of the arguing. "Just sit down and relax for a bit." Trist begrudgingly did as he was told, kicking the bat body into the corner of the room in silent protest.

He turned back to Jack who had stood up with the jar and was by the window, watching as dawn crawled in through the branches of the evergreens. "So now what?" The pressure of time was upon them.

"Well… it's only a theory, but I believe with the accelerated action of the toxin it will work, as long as we are careful."

"And that means..." Tristan prodded impatiently.

"Okay, so an antitoxin is the gradual build up of antibodies as a body is exposed to small doses of the venom."

"Like Darrin was exposed?" Trist asked not getting Jack's point at all.

"No, both Dean and him have been exposed to a full dose and they haven't had time to build the antibodies needed…"

"Okay Okay Okay," Trist interrupted again. "I don't get any of that mumbo jumbo science crap. What are you saying?"

"I need to expose myself to small doses of this toxin and, like I said before, what would normally take days will be more like hours. Then we can use my serum to introduce the antibodies into Darrin and Dean."

"What?" Gordon sat up straight despite his injuries, obviously appalled. "You're gonna do what??"

"It's the only way." Jack argued. "I've been here for hours thinking this over. There is no other way."

"Don't they use lab rats for that kind of shit?" This was Tristan's intelligent input into the conversation.

"And were are these lab rats you speak of? Beside we don't have time to experiment with other species, a human host is the ideal way to do this."

"A human host! Don't you hear how you're talking, what you're saying?" Gordon was not going to let Jack inject himself with the same venom that was already killing one of his friends. "What happens when something goes wrong, or it just doesn't work? No, no way are you taking that chance. Who'll take care of you when you fall ill, and then there's three of you, dying, and we are at square one. I sure as hell don't understand poisons and antidotes."

Jack let Gordon rant for a bit, but it looked like he had made his mind up.

The one thing neither of them had taken into consideration was Sam. Gordon was right that Jack was indispensable, but Sam…

He looked at his brother who appeared faded and frail, and so very un-Dean-like it almost brought on the tears that threatened to flow every time he looked at him. It was undeniable that he was spiralling towards coma, shock, and eventually death, foretold by the young man in the bed beside him.

The hospitals hadn't a known cure or treatment in their world to save him, but this was the chance, the one chance left for Dean to come back to him. And without that chance, if there was no saving Dean, then Sam would be lost. Unlike the other hunters in the room, this was it for Sam, he had absolutely nothing else to lose.

"I'll do it," he said without another thought. "Use me. Then if something goes wrong Jack will still be okay to care for Dean and Darrin and to figure something else out."

Jack and Gordon, who were staring each other down, both turned in awe towards Sam.

"I can't ask you to do that," Jack told him. "You don't know the risks."

"You didn't ask me…besides, the risk doesn't matter. Not at this point." Jack was looking less doubtful, seeing where Sam was coming from. "He's my brother, Jack…"

"This could not work, and then you'll be where he is now."

"I know." He couldn't look at Dean again, couldn't think about losing him. Without a doubt in his mind, if he couldn't save him then he would be with him until the end.


	13. Chapter 13

THIRTEEN

Sam sat nervously at the little table as Jack set up another IV line. He had already pulled up some of the venom and it was sitting innocently on the table, like it had nothing to do with all the sickness filling up the cabin.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Jack asked for the umpteenth time. Sam nodded again, never so sure of anything in his life. And his apprehension, it wasn't due to all the things that could happen to him, but for the chance that this may not work and then that was it, there were no other plans.

Sam offered his unscathed arm out for the placement of the IV. His shoulder, still sore and stiff, ached as he stretched it out. They were all in rough shape but, had all agreed that the sooner the venom was injected, the sooner Sam's body could work on the cure.

Needles had never bothered Sam and Jack was quick and efficient and had him hooked up in minutes. He opened the line up and the saline began to enter Sam's blood stream. Jack breathed deeply and tensely and then inserted the venom-filled syringe into a far port. "Okay?

"Jack! He said he was okay with it already!" Trist was standing impatiently behind Jack, peering over his shoulder.

Jack despite all his patience actually turned and scowled at Trist. "Did you have the balls to be in this position?" Trist backed up a couple of paces, shame creeping into his features. "Maybe you should get some fresh air." It wasn't a suggestion.

Tristan tucked his tail between his legs, grabbed some cigs from a jacket pocket, and skulked out the front door.

Jack turned back to Sam and without asking anymore questions slowly injected the venom into the line. Sam watched the saline turn thicker and then flow into his vein

He sighed, "well that's dose number one. I don't know what this is going to feel like, hopefully the saline will dilute it and minimize the effects as it enters your body." Sam nodded, unconcerned, he would work through it, whatever it was like, for Dean. "You'll probably feel sick as your body begins to fight it off, as soon as you begin to feel well again we'll do a second dose." He nodded again, a feeling of numbness creeping up through his arm now.

That being done Jack quickly cleaned Sam's arm, luckily only covered in minor scratches, and bandaged it for him. Then redid the blood soaked one on his head as well. Finally, there was nothing more to be done for Sam but Jack seemed reluctant to let him be, expecting him to keel over any second.

"I think I'm okay for now, you better see to Gordon."

Gordon had relocated to the floor beside Darrin's bed to give them room at the table. He had his back against the wall and was watching Darrin's chest move faintly up and down. Sam figured he must have lost a decent amount of blood, especially from the gouge on his back which still remained bleeding and open. He looked to be in the same stupor Sam had found himself in when they had first escaped from the cave.

It was Jack's turn to nod. "Well, let me know if anything feels…wrong."

That was going to be a tough call, everything felt wrong at this point. Sam got up and took himself over to Dean's bedside, hanging his IV bag beside Dean's on a rusty nail by the head of the bed.

"Well bro," he said sitting on the side of the bed, "I guess we're in the same boat now. You just have to hang on, give me time to catch up." Dean didn't respond, but Sam hadn't expected him to.

With Sam's permission they had agreed to dose Dean every fifteen minutes and so far he hadn't seized again. A fact which Sam was eternally grateful for. He wasn't sure if he would be able to witness his brother going through that agony again and keep it together. The side effect of this being depressed sedation so even if Dean had wanted to wake up he wouldn't; an induced coma. That fact of the treatment was what worried Sam, but their options had grown slim.

As Sam stood over his brother thinking these thoughts a wave of nausea washed through him and he had to fold over and clench his stomach to curb the sensation. It passed quickly and then the numbness that stemmed from the IV tingled along every nerve, like his entire body was falling asleep but his brain was wide awake.

He lay down next to Dean as the feeling overtook him. "This sucks," he remarked to nobody in particular.

The nausea came and went, marked by chills, cramps, and the uncomfortable lack of sensation. He could recall Jack talking to Gordon in the background, but the only sound that carried him was Dean's steady breaths. Somewhere in that time Jack had asked Sam twice if he could manage the valium injection. Somehow he had done it.

He had just begun to doze when the burning started, this spreading the same way the numbness had, but was much more intense and uncomfortable. The nausea became worse and constant, not enough to cause vomiting, but enough for Sam to avoid moving at all costs. He remained curled up beside his brother waiting for the pains to pass.

When Jack asked if he could get the third inject Sam didn't even attempt to respond. If he sat up he was sure to lose his stomach contents. Jack was beside the two brothers a couple of seconds later.

He placed the back of his hand on Sam's forehead and shook his head in worried wonderment. "Fever, already. That just blows my mind." He pulled some more valium for Dean. "How you making out?" he asked Sam as he did the injection.

Sam resisted the urge to moan, which would have said all his feelings and thoughts if it had been Dean who was listening. "Mm, like crap," he forced out.

"Hang in there." He passed Sam a damp, cool cloth to calm the burning fever which was gradually introducing itself. "Hopefully, you should start to feel better in the next hour or so. If not then…" Another unfinished sentence which did not bode well.

Sam hoped it was sooner rather than later. He closed his eyes and heard Jack shuffle back to the table.

_Dean_, he thought, _if this is what you went through, I'm sorry_. The idea of Dean getting out of the cave and patching Sam up despite his condition put a hard lump in his throat.

Had it really been this bad, why hadn't he said something? Then again, how could Sam have expected him to, if he had it wouldn't have been Dean.

_I'm sorry I didn't see how bad it was. I'm sorry I dragged you through the woods and pushed you and pushed you._ Despite his best efforts a tear escaped and trickled across his flushed cheek, for Dean, for all they went through, for this cursed life being all they knew.


	14. Chapter 14

FOURTEEN

Sam had fallen asleep, somehow, and was woken by Tristan stomping back into the cabin and slamming the door. He sat up without pause and found himself completely able to do so. Other than feeling drained and sticky with dried sweat, he felt surprisingly... okay. Did that mean things were working?

He looked around the cabin for Jack. He was sitting at the table rubbing the fatigue from his eyes. Sam wondered when he had last slept. He stayed up one night with Darrin, the second night with Dean, busy all day long with patients, injuries, more injuries, timing drugs, figuring out a cure… And now he had several books propped under his nose.

Jack looked towards Trist who stomped some mud noisily off his boots. Too tired to reprimand him, he turned back to the page he was reading.

"Thought you would have made some coffee instead of just sitting on your arse while I did all the work?" he said as he put down the bucket of water he had been carrying. He filled their small kettle and sloshed it all over as he slammed it down on the stove.

Jack trying his best to disregard the comment, silently clenched his fists and never lifted his eyes from the text.

As it were, he still hadn't noticed Sam sitting up beside his unconscious brother, but Tristan had. "How 'bout you, Sambo," he asked across the room. "You sure look like you could use it, you look like shit."

Sam felt the urge to clench his own fists. What the hell - Sambo? That was about a million times worse than Sammy. He tightened his jaw so he wouldn't be tempted to say something.

However, Jack did look up at this comment and towards Sam. "Hey," he said shocked to see him awake and upright. "How are you feeling?'

"Well," he ran his hand through his dishevelled hair. "I guess I feel okay. Does that mean…"

Jack nodded enthusiastically before he could finish the sentence. "I have to admit I was getting worried there for a bit, but looks like you pulled through."

Sam couldn't help but smile, this was a good thing, the best thing that had happened in days. "So, when do I shoot up again."

"When can I shoot up again.?" Trist piped up excitedly.

"He means the venom," Jack growled.

"I know he's joking, geez…"

Either it was the lack of sleep or the fact that his friend's life was still dangling on the line but Jack's patience was wearing thinner and thinner with Tristan. "Weren't you going to chop some wood for the stove?"

"What do I look like, your scullery maid? Fetch the water, chop the wood, shall I rub your feet me lord." Tristan's arguing, Sam was beginning to see, was always pointless and tedious.

Jack stood from the table, fed up with the banter, and though much shorter than Trist caused him to step back a pace. "I don't care what the hell you do, you just can't be in here."

"What the hell, Jack? What did I do."

"Nothing, Trist, and that's the point. What have you brought to this hunt other than your ignorant, cowardly mistakes."

Jack's words seemed to physically sting Tristan and he stumbled backwards to find the door. "I…it wasn't…" Sam couldn't tell if he was a furious or crestfallen. "I didn't…" His chin dropped to his chest, dejected, "fine, I'll just go." He quietly opened the door and crept out into the afternoon sunshine.

Jack closed his eyes and took several deep, cleansing breaths to dissipate the anger. He didn't say anything regarding the exchange, but turned to Sam once he was composed and calm. "Sam." He pulled out on of the chairs.

Sam grabbed his IV bag and left Dean's side to sit at the table.

"So, you're sure you're feeling okay?"

Sam nodded, "other than being a little tired, all the fever and aches are gone."

"That's great," but his delivery was melancholic. "So you should feel the effects of this dose less. Eventually, you should only have some very minor symptoms right after the injection and then we'll know that you've built up enough immunity."

"How long will that take?" He glanced at Dean, but with him sedated it was hard to tell how much worse he had gotten.

"I have no idea, two, six, twelve hours? I don't know." Was this the idea that was driving Jack's depression? Was he worried that they would run out of time?

It seemed every time there was a reason to hope, there were ten more reasons holding it back.

Sam stretched out his arm as Jack filled the syringe with the venom and injected it slowly into a port.

"Jack," Sam looked him in his eyes so he knew he would be getting the truth. "How long do we realistically have?"

But Jack turned away, his eyes welling with unshed tears, and busied himself with the boiling water on the stove.

"Jack…" For someone who had remained collected and logical up until now his reaction almost stopped Sam's heart, and for a moment it seemed the world had stopped too. The sleeping men in the corner, the rattle of the boiling kettle, the dull roar of the wood in the stove, were all suspended in time as Sam waited for the answer.

Jack cleared his throat, trying to pull himself together. "Dean hasn't had valium for over an hour," he said with his back still turned to Sam. "I figure he's about eight hours behind Darrin, going into severe septic shock, coma, organ failure..."

Eight hours. Okay, Sam allowed himself a breath, he could work with that, it wasn't over, they still had time to fight.

Jack's voice became thick with grief as he pushed on. "Darrin is…" his voice hitched in his throat.

Sam wasn't sure how to console the young hunter who was breaking down in front of him.

He turned to face Sam, tears streaking his cheeks. "I'm going to lose him."


	15. Chapter 15

FIFTEEN

Tristan stalked sullenly through the woods back to the cave. He'd show them all that he wasn't as useless as they thought.

He had grabbed a rifle and the pack by the door without notice as he slipped outside, escaping from Jack's judgmental stare. He would prove his worth by taking out the monsters himself, without an elaborate plan or shit loads of gear. How hard could it be to shoot down a couple of bats?

It was just bad luck that they had been attacked the first time. Trist thought back to two days ago when Darrin and him had walked the same path, with no idea of the dangers in the cave.

Okay, so that wasn't entirely true.

Darrin had been dead set against an evening raid into the unknown. However, Tristan was bored from the long drive and then the arduous hike up to the Gordon's cousin's cabin and needed some excitement.

Hell, that was the whole reason he had tracked the hunters down in the first place. Bored of the Cali surf scene he thought it would be an interesting past time; shoot some guns, kill some bad guys, a real life video game. He hadn't anticipated the hours of research and reading that was involved and always left that up to the other three. He was just there for the glory.

So after days of no action he figured a little jaunt out to the scene of the crime would relieve his restlessness. Hell bent on going, despite the stern warning from all three of the other guys, he tramped off into the woods. Gordon's abusive comments following him through the trees and then there was Darrin, jogging to catch up with him.

"Trist, why don't you just wait until morning? It's only a couple of hours." Darrin pleaded with him.

At this point there was too much pride involved and turning back was not an option. Beside he wanted to see what they were up against. "Nope, gotta stretch my legs or I'll go stir crazy."

Darrin sighed. "Well, you can't go alone. I'll come with you if we keep it short."

"Fine choice," he said and marched on, Darrin reluctantly following.

They headed along the north trail that Gordon's cousin had taken earlier that week with his doomed friend.

As the story went, they had spent all day up a tree stand, trying to hunt, but with no game in sight had both ended up tipsy as sin instead. Upon climbing down late in the evening the story became jumbled and, even for seeing the supernatural, it hadn't made much sense.

They were attacked from behind by claws, wings, red burning eyes, and screams of the devil himself. Several aimless shots by the cousin had scared the attack away from his friend, but too late. He had stumbled through the forest, scared out of his mind with an injured companion, and had become quite lost. Eventually, the friend, now unconscious, had to be abandoned for rescue as the cousin tried to find their bearings. By morning only a blood stained patch of moss gave away the friend's last whereabouts.

Gordon was called the next day and here they were, hunting a devil creature that left a trail of missing people and one half witted witness.

They had already passed the tree stand, but even Trist had to admitting tracing the cousin was near impossible in the impending dusk. He pushed onwards anyway and Darrin followed wordlessly, tense and hesitant. It was irritating, especially since Trist hadn't even asked him to come.

Shortly after they came upon a wall of rock in front of them and Trist began to walk the path along it. Darrin kept pausing behind him and had asked Trist to hold still a couple of times.

A couple was enough and the third time he was quite fed up with it. "Darrin, you gotta cut that out. There's nothing to hear."

"That's my worry," he said.

"What's your worry? That there are no beasties out in the dark."

"Yeah, beasties, crickets, birds… how could they be hunting all day and not see a single thing." Darrin was speaking softly, mostly to himself.

"What the hell are you going on about."

"Nevermind, let's get back…" and then he pulled another statue moment and put a finger to his lips.

Trist shook his head and turned to continue along the bottom of the cliff.

All was silent behind him and then, with a rush of wind, Darrin tackled him. Out of nowhere he had bowled into him from behind knocking him forcefully to the ground. His face to the dirt and Darrin's weight on top of him all he could hear was the commotion of flapping wings.

Then, Darrin was off of him in one fluid motion and on his feet, grunting and wrestling with a dark form attached to the back of his shoulder.

Trist could only watch the scuffle unfolded, like a slow motion movie, too stunned to react.

Darrin let out a pain filled roar as the creature bent over his neck and bit into his flesh. This much Tristan could see.

Then in a furious burst of energy Darrin slammed himself against the rocks, effectively dislodging the stunned creature to the ground. Unfortunately, his head had also connected with the wall and he staggered forward, knocked for a loop. The creature took to the air in a parody of Darrin's stumble and disappeared into the trees.

Trist lay gasping for air, dazed by the events of the last minute. Darrin stood over him, clutching the back of his head, a dark stain saturating his jacket.

"Tristan?" he asked between pants. "Are you - pant - okay?"

Tristan patted himself down but didn't feel too broken. "What the hell was that?" He asked getting to his feet.

"My guess - pant - that's what - pant - we're hunting."

"Well, I know that! I mean why the hell did you hit me so hard."

"Are you - pant - kidding?" Darrin shook his head in disbelief. "Nevermind. - pant - We need to - pant - get back and tell - pant - Jack and Gordon."

"You're bleeding you know." Trist pointed out to him, figuring he was being useful.

"I know - pant - I can feel it." Other than feeling dizzy and faint, he was mostly annoyed, and started back towards the path to the cabin without consulting further with his useless team mate.

"Hey, Trist," he panted heavier as his injuries began to flood him completely. "Next time someone is bleeding - pant - try offering them some help."

Those were the last words Darrin had spoken to him.

They had pushed hard to get back to the cabin and by then Darrin felt like shit and Jack had taken over.

To his credit, Tristan had followed Darrin's advice and offered help to the strangers in the woods. And now look where that had put him. Maybe after this, he would try going solo for a bit. At least then nobody would yell at him.


	16. Chapter 16

SIXTEEN

The little cabin lay silent under the sun of the late afternoon. Sam was sitting on the edge of Dean's bed, bent over an empty bucket, feeling like shit. At least he was able to sit up this time and not be in danger of vomiting all over himself. The quiet of the day was comforting and Sam hung his head between his knees, just breathing through the nausea.

He figured he was on the road to recovery, yet again, and would be ready for another dose in a quarter of an hour.

He'd have to do it himself. Jack had finally passed out, against his own will. He had been kneeling at Darrin's bed, vigilantly praying before the exhaustion of the past forty eight hours took its hold.

As he grew numb from the second injection, Sam had made a suggestion which had given Jack a small inkling hope. He figured that his body had to have built up some defence against the poison. If Darrin was out of time anyway what could it hurt to try.

Jack had harvest some of Sam's blood and let it sit to separate into serum and cells. He then injected the serum into Darrin's line and that was all they could do. That and pray. There had been no change for better, but more importantly, no change for the worse.

In the meantime Sam was worrying more and more about Dean. His blood pressure had dropped dramatically at one point and Jack had to triple the flow of the IV to maintain it. Now that all the sedation had worn off Sam caught glimpses of his internal struggle pass across his face as his brow furrowed or eyelids fluttered.  
If only he would wake up for just a moment, just to look Sam in the eyes once. He needed to let Dean know that he was fighting for him and to hang on, he just needed a little more time.

The nausea was finally ebbing. Sam quietly rose and crept across the squeaky floorboards to the vial of venom. The sooner he got the next dose the faster he could save Dean.  
How much had Jack been giving him, he couldn't recall. He filled the syringe to the top, 3 cc? Sounded okay. Then put it into the port and pushed it in. Simple, nothing to it. He sat at the table as the venom hit his blood stream and felt the now familiar sensations of the infection start their course.

Sam surveyed the cabin of hunters. Jack was still kneeling at Darrin's bed, head on the mattress, somehow sleeping through the uncomfortable position.

Gordon was still sleeping on a piles of blankets bundled up on the floor and had been that way since returning this morning.

Darrin looked dead, but he had looked that way for hours. Sam wasn't sure how Jack was able to see him like that and not fall apart. If it had been Dean... Sam couldn't even think about it.

As he glanced at his brother's ashen face, he saw another moment of anguish cross his features. He was up and across the room immediately even though there was nothing he could do.

"Dean," he whispered, "you keep fighting, okay. You can't leave me." A couple of warm tears escaped from his sorrowful eyes.

And then, as if he had heard him, Dean's eyebrows wrinkled in concentration. His lips twitched noiselessly, but full of purpose.

"Dean!" Sam gently steadied his head which subtly rolled from side to side in delirium. "Can you hear me?" he asked urgently trying to keep his voice down despite his excitement.

He bent closer to hear the quiet murmurs Dean was making. "Sss….mm." His eyes clenched in pain from the effort. "Ss…k."

"I know you're sick, but I'm working on it okay."

With a airy sigh Dean's face relaxed back into unconsciousness. "Dean, did you hear me?" He squeezed his shoulders in desperation. "You have to hold on," he pleaded, "I'm working on it."

But that was all Dean had energy to give. A couple of seconds wasn't enough Sam realized. Nothing would be until he was on his feet, making wise ass remarks, listening to ancient rock, and driving the Impala down an open stretch of highway.

Someone stirred behind Sam but as he turned to see who a sudden painful cramp wrenched at his stomach. He doubled over on to the floor. Blinking through the spasm it felt as if his intestines were twisting and knotting themselves together. He gasped, trying to take in some air, mouth agape like a fish out of water. A hand was on his shoulder but could offer no aid.

After a couple of minutes the sensation subsided a little and he realized Jack had been asking him what was wrong.

"Cramp," Sam managed to huff out.

"From the venom?" Jack asked, aware that it was more than a cramp.

"Yeah," he panted, "I just re-dosed."

"Uh," Jack was a little startled that Sam had taken that upon himself. "Okay, well, how much did you use." Jack hadn't been sharing the amount with Sam, hadn't felt the reason to. Now he had a sick feeling that Sam had used more then was intended.

"I filled the syringe."

Jack sucked in a breath of lament. "Geez Sam, that's twice what you are due for."

"What does that mean?" He asked sitting up a little more now.

"Well, to be honest, I don't have a clue. Could be okay, could be trouble…"

Sam bent back over as the pains peaked again. Another stretch of agonizing minutes passed and he was able to look at Jack again. His face was saturated with intense worry.

He grasped him under his arm and helped him to sit on the edge of Dean's bed again. "Hang on a second, I think Trist may have grabbed some gravol. It may help a bit."

Sam clutched his abdomen and willed the pains to pass. If only will have something to do with it.

Gordon was stirring as Jack rummaged noisily through all the medical supplies they had acquired.

"Are you guys okay?" He asked rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Jack just grunted a hollow response as he had found what he was looking for and was heading back over to Sam. Luckily, the gravol was injectable and Sam's IV was useful once again.

Gordon had risen stiffly and limped over to Jack and Sam. "Is he okay?" he asked Jack clearly seeing the discomfort and illness in Sam's appearance.

"Just fighting off the poison," Jack replied.

"Why don't you use my, er, bed?" Gordon gestured to the pile of blankets bundled on the floor. "It's comfier than it looks."

"That's probably a good idea." Jack said as he helped Sam to his feet and shuffled over to the makeshift bed. Honestly, Sam could care less at the moment about good or bad ideas. He just want to curl up and pass out.

He couldn't help but groan as he flopped onto the pile. Another culmination of painful spasms had come upon him and anything Gordon and Jack were saying was lost beyond the torment.


	17. Chapter 17

SEVENTEEN

Some time had passed and now it was dark and empty and lonely. Sam stood defensively against the blackness, one thought consuming his mind. Dean was here. Only he couldn't be. The chasm of Sam's unconsciousness was his alone and yet, there was a presence beyond the boundaries.

"Dean?" he called out, his voice swallowed as soon as it left his mouth. He peered intensely into the dark, eyes finally settling on a pinprick of light. He had to scrutinize it for a long few minutes to be sure that it was growing. This light, this presence in the dark, felt forbidding and still Sam stood his ground.

As if sensing his defiance the light exploded outwards and expanded into an encircling wall of fire, flames licking fiercely feet above his head. Sam had time to turn around once to survey the ring before it began to tighten, closer and closer, the terrific heat searing Sam's nerves. It was slow and deliberate, unstoppable. Sam closed his eyes against the nightmare grunting in pain.

"Dean… I need you." But there was nobody, only the fire.

And that was how it had been for years. The demonic fire that had consumed his mom, his Jessica, his life; the fires of hell. Well, not today, he thought. He wasn't going to lose himself to this inferno. He would fight it for himself, but more, for the last thing he held dear - his brother.

He closed his eyes with purpose this time and took a step forward, then another, right through the wall of flame and fury.

***

Jack went through the motions of checking Gordon's wound but it was only for something to do. Gordon could tell he was distracted as he carelessly prodded around his bruised and battered back. "Ow, geezus, what the hell are you poking at it for?"

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"Just leave it okay," he moved away and pulled his t-shirt back on before Jack could bother him any more. "Look, I get that you need something to do, but seriously I am fine. You have a whole cabin of patients other than me."

Jack just turned away and didn't say anything. How could he tell Gordon that he had failed; that he was going to loose them all? "This is it for me," he said quietly, more to himself, but Gordon's senses were keen and he heard it loud as day.

"What is it for you?"

"I just can't do this anymore."

"Jack, we all feel like that at some point..."

He shook his head to stop the Gordon's pointless coddling. "Why the hell are we doing this? Why are we living this way?" He ran his hands through his hair in exasperation.

"I'm not answering that," Gordon said, not giving up on the conversation "We've had this discussion a million times."

"This is different," Jack snapped. He couldn't help it, the lack of the sleep, the endless circle of defeat after defeat, the impending death of his friends…"They're dying!" He burst out, quickly wiping away the tears that had spilled out.

Gordon somehow remained calm. "Dying, not dead. And we're fixing it right? Sam's building an antidote."

Jack slowly shook his head. "He's too sick. Things are not working the way they should. He should be feeling better, not worse after being exposed."

Gordon interrupted his tirade, finally bored with the doom and gloom, and laboriously rose from his own chair to push it towards Jack. "Sit down and breath." Jack was going to protest. "Just sit alright."

He did, but it didn't help any. He still felt lost and despondent.

"Look. You said you don't think, you don't know. I hate to tell you Jack, but that's the truth of it. None of us know anything for sure and there's no set outcome, not yet."

Jack just responded with a silent look full off a deep-set weariness.

Sam moaned and rolled over in a fitful sleep, distracting Jack's distress. Suddenly his body jerked stiffly and tighten into a distorted arch. A pain filled groan escaped his lips. Jack was out of the chair so fast he knocked it to the ground.

"Seizure!" He shouted at Gordon and grabbed one of the pre-filled syringes which had been meant for Dean.

He was at Sam's side, needle in the IV port, was about to inject… Sam's body relaxed, his face unscrewed from the mask of agony. Jack held still waiting for another twitch, another spasm, anything. It didn't come. And then, without warning Sam's jerked out of his nightmarish slumber, completely lucid, and bolted out of the tangle of blankets. "Dean!"

Jack fell back onto the floor from his crouched perch, startled at Sam's abrupt awakening.

Sam blinked a couple of times as he remembered his surroundings. Hel looked at Jack and Gordon's shocked faces, and beyond them Dean lying sick and motionless on the cot across the room.

"How do you feel?" Gordon asked tentatively.

"Better…" Sam said looked back at the two bewildered hunters. "In fact, I feel much better. I think I'm ready for another dose."


	18. Chapter 18

EIGHTEEN

Sam was sitting at the little table again and was overwhelmed with an intense feeling of deja vu.

Jack, sitting across from Sam, was filled with an intense feeling of dread. He hadn't liked Sam's response to the last injection of the poison and was quite reluctant to have him go through that again. However, Sam was insistent, persistent, and determined to carry on the plan in the hopes of saving his brother. Jack was feeling significantly less hopeful. He had decided to use the same amplified dose Sam had chosen and then responded to so badly the last time. At least it was a bit of a firewall against things getting worse.

Jack numbly pulled up some more of the venom. They wouldn't have more for another more potent dose. Not that it mattered. Jack was sure Dean and Darrin wouldn't be around for another round anyway. Jack had decided that if Sam pulled through this one okay that was as good as it would get; they were all out of time and out of resources. It wasn't an encouraging situation even though Gordon and Sam seemed to have better spirits. Darrin's lack of improvement had greatly dishearten Jack's idea that an antitoxin was even possible. It was getting harder and harder to look at the up side of things.

On top of it all, Jack was wondering where Tristan had gotten to. It had been hours since their fight and the dusk was fast approaching. Normally, he would have returned for another round of arguing and pestering. Jack didn't mention any of these thoughts aloud, a lesser burden for Gordon and Sam.

He wordlessly injected the final dose of poison , having tried unsuccessful to talk Sam out of it. If had doomed another person to death… well, it was just unfortunate that all the poison had been used up. Then again, there was always the cave of lethal bats just up the way.

"Hey," Sam leaned across the table toward the sullen face of Jack. "Are you okay?" Jack was looking rougher than Gordon and himself combined. And he recognized the look like a face in the mirror; a deep weariness of the soul, the kind that consumed one who carried too much on his own.

He swallowed the discomfort as the poison surged through his system, waiting for Jack to vent his mind. However, Jack had no answers for him and just gave a tight nod, looking distractedly out one of the cabin windows. He didn't know what else to say to change Jack's outlook.

Gordon looked over at him as he mixed up some more instant coffee at the stove and shrugged.

"Heya Jack," he said as he plopped some of the new brew in front of his friend. "You either need to take a walk or a nap."

"Hmm…" Jack softly grunted in response.

"I'm serious dude. Look, go outside, sit under the trees, and drink your coffee. You've been holed up in this cabin for days." Sam recognized that tone of voice as an ordered suggestion that was not meant to be argued. Jack could also sense Gordon's implication and stood up, defeated in body and spirit, and slipped quietly out the front door, stealing one last dispirited glance at his fading patients.

"Is he going to be okay?" Sam asked Gordon as the door swung closed.

Gordon did a quasi shake-nod that was neither yes nor no. "The better question is… are they going to be okay?" he said as he indicated Dean and Darrin. "I know Jack takes all this medical stuff pretty seriously, but his worrying is starting to worry me. If they pull through then Jack'll be just fine, we all will. If they don't… Well, that's just not an option."

That's exactly how Sam was feeling. Keeping hope even through the darkest times was something Sam had grown accustomed to over the years as a hunter, but when the man with the plan seemed to be giving up, that just wasn't a good sign.

"Coffee?" Gordon asked as he mixed more of the instant grounds into the boiled water.

Sam nodded numbly. He was starting to feel Jack's depression seep in. He looked over at Dean and had to strain his eyes to see the shallow rise and fall of his brother's chest. Reassured, he stole a glance at Darrin but didn't see any movement at all. If he had quietly let go, nobody had noticed. Sam subconsciously leaned forward to be sure.

Gordon noticed the subtle shift of attention and looked towards his companion as well. Noticing the lack of breaths immediately he crossed the room and knelt nervously beside the bed. He pressed his fingers to Darrin's neck and watched intently for a breath. Nothing.

"Is he……?" Sam asked as he ventured to stand quietly behind Gordon.

"Still has a pulse, but…"

They were interrupted by a small, weak movement of Gordon's hand upon Darrin's chest. Small, but there.

Gordon let out his own breath. "Geezus christ, Darrin." He ran a hand through his hair, trying to dissipate the dread that had consumed him moments ago. "No wonder Jack's doing his silent freak out thing. You damn near gave _me_ a heart attack."

It was near a minute until the next breath came. Gordon remained in position to find that one too, and the next, and the next. Sam stood supportively behind him, but apprehensively kept checking his own brother from the corner of his eye.

Sam began to wonder how Darrin was still going. He had been looking just as bad hours ago, but hadn't gotten any worse. It was more obvious that Dean's condition was going downhill. Would he eventually plateau as Darrin had? And at what point would that delicate stability give in to the finally stage of the poison?

And then Sam remembered that they had given Darrin some of his serum. It seemed like ages ago, a distant but pertinent memory. Perhaps somewhere in there Darrin was now able to put up some fight, and not just on will alone. Faith was one thing, but a little bit of modern medicine could go a long way.

It was along this line of thought that Sam finally realized that he wasn't feeling like shit, which by now he definitely should have been. Other than the initial discomfort directly after the injection he felt fit as a fiddle. The excitement of this realization almost hit him physically in the gut. Gordon was preoccupied but Sam had no qualms about interrupting Jack's coffee break with this news.

He found Jack looking forlornly down the path to the cave. He turned when he heard Sam crunching across the ground towards him and nodded in acknowledgment.

"So, I think I may finally have some good news for you."

Jack raised his eyebrows, interested, but just refused to show any signs of hope.

"I'm feeling great. Not a lick of nausea or pains this time around." Sam watched Jack for his reaction.

A slight smile spread slowly from one corner of his mouth to the other. "Well, you're looking alright, not rolling on the ground in agony at least."

"I know! Does that mean that some sort of antitoxin has been built up?"

"I should say so. There's no other way to explain it." Jack still seemed down and Sam almost felt like shaking him so he could see that this was the light at the end of the tunnel.

"So, we should get this stuff," meaning his serum, "into Dean and Darrin right?" The sooner the better he thought.

"Yeah…"

Sam didn't need any more persuasion than that and turned to go back into the cabin with Jack in tow, but Jack grabbed his arm in hesitation.

"There's a chance this may not work as we intend it to," he said, instantly deflating Sam's joviality. "It may be too long past for it to make a difference."

As soon as Jack said it, he felt ashamed. Why was he being such a cynic and dashing the faith Sam had in his brother and in their cure? He changed his tune. "But it is our best chance and we'll exhaust every other chance out there until Dean's better."

Sam nodded. He didn't need to be told that things may not go as planned. When did they ever? But they would cross that bridge when they came to it.


	19. Chapter 19

NINETEEN

It took a painstakingly long time to process the serum. Mostly due to the fact that Sam was tired of waiting. In the meantime, the patients were being watched vigilantly. Sam's heart had stopped numerous times whenever Dean took another second longer to breath. He was kicking himself for not injecting Dean with the half potent serum until Jack explained that the second round may be rejected entirely and one strong blast was the best way.

Yet another fact complicating Darrin's situation that Jack had probably been fully aware of the entire time. Gordon was meticulously monitoring Darrin's vitals, but Jack had obviously focused all his attention towards Dean. Were the chances of recovery that grim that Jack already had Darrin dead and buried? It hardly seemed fair when he had hung on for so long. Sam could tell it was pissing Gordon off but now wasn't the time for petty squabbling. As it were, everyone was being taken care of, not that there was much else to do other than wait.

Finally, with a little bit of centrifugal force the blood had separated and Jack pulled up two identical syringes of the serum.

He approached Dean first and with a single hopeful sigh injected the serum into the nearest port, then flushed the line.

Sam half hoped that Dean's eyes would snap open and ask why the hell everyone looked so frikin' depressed. Obviously it wasn't going to work that way but one could dream. The reaction, however, was still anticlimactic. In fact it was downright discouraging when absolutely nothing happened.

Jack patted Sam's shoulder sensing the disappointment. "Give it some time, Sam."

He then went over and gave Darrin his share of the serum. "Now we wait."

"You mean now we continue to wait." Gordon said, disheartened as well.

Jack just nodded.

"By the way, did you happen to see Tristan when you were out and about." Gordon asked only now wondering where he had gone off to, slightly annoyed that he hadn't bothered to check back in with them. Damned if he did, damned if he didn't.

Jack shook his head. "I wasn't really about much, but no, I haven't a clue where he went. Couldn't have gone back to the car, I still have the keys."

"Maybe he hiked back down to the road and hitchhiked out of our lives."

"You'd like that wouldn't you?"

Gordon shrugged but his unspoken answer was obviously yes. It made Sam truly grateful to be hunting with Dean, and Dean alone. Sure, he was a pain every now and then, but he was a brother and that came with the territory. But, do or die, when it came down to it, Dean was as good as they came, for a hunter, for backup, for a brother.

As he sat on Dean's bedside reminiscing on several of their passed hunts he felt his brother take an anomalous gasp. He turned sharply to analyze what that meant. Dean's breaths were coming quicker and deeper, his face starting to contort… in pain? Sam squeezed his shoulders, "Dean?"

He shook his head like he was trying to get out of an inescapable nightmare, body tensing with effort.

"Dean! Wake up!" Sam begged more urgently. "Come on, bro, you need to open your eyes!"

Dean's breathing became more steady and calm in response to Sam's plead. His eyelids began to flutter, his face creased with an exhaustive effort, and then two hazel eyes opened to find the concerned and anxious face of his brother peering down at him.

"Sammy?" It felt like he hadn't spoken in years and his brother's name came out barely audible. He didn't have the energy to sort through the tangled cobweb of his last remembered days, but that didn't matter right now. Sam was here, in front of him, safe and sound. Dean closed his eyes appeased by this fact alone.

"Dean…" Sam gently squeezed his brother's shoulder to rouse him again, mostly to confirm that it all wasn't a dream. This time around Dean looked more annoyed than confused as he opened his eyes. "Do you need anything? Are you thirsty? Hungry?"

Dean shook his head and faintly mouthed "just tired." He could tell that Sam wanted more out of him but he would just have to be patient. Big brother needed to catch a couple winks before they could have a happy little chinwag. He sighed contently and gave in to the intense fatigue and weakness overwhelming his mind and body.

Sam resisted the urge to force Dean to stay awake and assure him over and over that he was okay. Instead, as Dean slipped into a more peaceful slumber, he turned to Jack for this guarantee. "Is he okay? Does this mean he's going to be all right?"

Jack quietly went to the other side of Dean's bed and checked his vitals. They were all strong and steady. He shook his head in amazement and disbelief. "I think he's going to pull through this. His pulse is almost back to normal, breathing good, temp coming down." Jack peered at Sam as his face flushed with relief. He wished he was feeling the same for his own companion. "He just needs some time to rest." He unconsciously patted Sam's shoulder as he moved away from the brothers. If the situation permitted a little optimism it looked as if they wouldn't be needing him anymore.


	20. Chapter 20

TWENTY

It was the first time that the cabin had remained quiet and peaceful since the arrival of the hunters. Jack and Gordon has split the pile of extra blankets and despite the hard floor were both deeply asleep.

Gordon had passed out after making them a dinner of canned beef soup. It was the first time in days that Sam had felt like eating and the warm broth had been so satisfying. Sam and Jack had sat up for some time after that as the sky grew dark.

Jack was desperately monitoring Darrin for a change, anything to indicate that he was responding the way Dean had. His breathing and pulse had grown stronger but Jack had mentioned, under his breath, that his decreased respirations may have starved him of oxygen for too long. Sam had reciprocated the 'give him some time' advise, but it felt a little hollow considering Dean had actually been conscious, even if it had been brief.

Reluctantly aware that there was nothing more he could do for his friend, Jack eventually gave in to his own extreme exhaustion. With a few blankets to pad the wooden floor Jack set up camp beside Darrin's bed and was asleep in seconds. Sam was relieved to see him finally getting the sleep he so needed and deserved.

And then there was Sam. He sat beside his brother and watched his chest rhythmically rise and fall as he slept. He lost track of the time as he sat there, under the filtered moonlight, lost in his thoughts. He thought of mom, and Jess, and dad, and, of course, Dean. After suffering so much loss how would he ever endure losing the one last, good piece of this world. How close had it come to that over the last few years and when would their luck run out? Really, it was only a matter of time… but Sam shook this thought from his mind. It wasn't here and it wasn't today and that would have to be good enough. And it was.

Finally, he felt his own eyes begin to droop and, though Dean would not be impressed, sidled him to one side of the bed and stretched out his own lanky form on the other. It wasn't long before he too was fast asleep.

***

Tristan woke up sore and stiff. Sleeping against a tree was really not the way to spend an afternoon nap. He had reached the cave and wandered around the surrounding woods for a couple of hours. Once he had decided that his scouting was rather pointless he wasted the next hour and a bit smoking away the pack of cigs he had found in his pocket.

He had paced back and forth in front of the cave's mouth a couple of times and debated upon his next move. To go in or not to go in? That was the question. It was possible that Darrin had grabbed faulty flares and he couldn't risk that. And there was no way a single flashlight was going to do him any good. He figured any spelunking was out of the question.

He would wait until dark and for the creatures to come to him. He propped himself against the thick trunk of a tree and waited. It was boring as hell and he considered going back to the cabin numerous times, but pride kept him from returning.

Ultimately, the boredom lead to the long, numbing catnap he was just now waking from. The sun was gone other than a dim orange fading in the west. It was colder too and Trist huddled under his jacket despite himself. Being a true city boy he was not comfortable with the mysteriousness of a darkened forest. The snaps and crackles of unknown origin made him nervous and twitchy. As the last of the day faded behind the horizon his sense of unease multiplied tenfold.

For comfort he ran through his bare-boned plan, which seemed to draw more and more questions, and the urge to go back to the cabin grew stronger. What if he couldn't see what he was shooting in the dark? What if they came at him in a group? What if they came from behind? What if something entirely different came out of the forest? There was no way he was prepared for a werewolf or a, what had Jack called it, a wendigo? Whatever the hell that was, he had no clue what to do against one. Maybe his solo mission had not been such a good idea.

Then, similar to the other night, there was a rush of wind through the trees. Alright! That was it, he was heading back! With clumsy haste he grabbed the rifle and the sack and got to his feet. There it was again! Shit. He swung the rifle towards the sky but couldn't seem a damned thing.

He hustled back towards the path to the cabin and that was when it hit him. It flew forcefully at his back and knocked him to his hands and knees. He could feel the wings beating around him but couldn't feel the talons which had so effectively damaged all the other hunters. It must be clinging to the backpack? Trist remembered Darrin using the wall to knock the thing off his own back. No prob, he would just get to his feet and crush this thing against the rock. But, then it did its wail and Trist had to clamped his hands to his ears.

Somehow, through the ringing he remember that he could just remove the pack so as swiftly as he could he flung it off his arms to the ground and whirled around to face the bat. It took it a second to realize it was no longer on its victim and the same second for Trist to point the rifle and pull the trigger. There was a gentle click, that was all. There was no ammo in the gun! _Are you fucking kidding me? _Trist thought right before the bat lunged at his leg and sank it claws and teeth through the denim and deep into his flesh. He swung the rifle around and pounded at the bat until it let go. It screeched painfully as it flutter-flopped away from the beating.

The bite stung and numbed at the same time and he reached down without a thought to grasp at the pain. "You fucker," he swore at the downed beast. That was when number two and three attacked. They flew in turn towards the unsuspecting hunter, talons outstretched menacingly. The first one sunk its claws deeply into his shoulder and successfully anchored itself underneath his clavicle. Tristan roared in pain and turned to grabbed at the bat, as number three anchored its' claws into his other shoulder. He twisted frantically from side to side, yelling and screaming in desperate agony.

The creatures endured the ineffective pounding and just beat their wings that much harder. If Tristan had been less terrified he would have felt his feet leave the ground at least a foot before a resounding snap echoed off the trees. The creatures lost their hold as their prey's bones split under the weight. Tristan let out one last tortured scream before he crumpled into a motionless heap on the ground.

***

Sam bolted upright out of his slumber. He could have sworn he heard a noise, a cry, a scream, something. But as he sat motionless and alert there was nothing more resonating through the night. His movement jostled Dean who moaned grumpily and he too opened his eyes. He was still groggy and foggy but able to somewhat tune himself again to Sam's perceptions.

"Sammy?" he whispered making Sam forget what had truly woken him.

"Dean." His eyes immediately softened as he took in his ill brother. Jack was right that he still needed some time to pull completely out of this. "How you feeling, do you need anything?" he asked keeping his voice low.

"Feel like shit."

"You look like shit," Sam reassured him.

Dean sleepily rolled his eyes, clearly not appreciating Sam's honesty. "You too… should get some sleep," he softly retorted, his eyelids already growing heavy again.

"I was…" and that brought Sam back to the noise which had roused him. Dean's eyes were closed again, but Sam couldn't have been more awake. "It sounded like the bats, attacking…" He was out of the bed now, on his feet, taking in the cabin which was still minus one hunter. "Tristan."


	21. Chapter 21

TWENTY ONE

For seconds Sam debated against waking Gordon or Jack. No one in the cabin was in any shape to be running off on a hunch, but if Tristan was truly in trouble could he possible ignore that? He bent down beside Gordon and urgently shook his shoulder. "Gordon." He tried to keep his voice down so as to not wake Jack.

Gordon rolled over and rubbed the drowsiness from his eyes, blinking past the darkness in the cabin to focus on Sam. "Is everything okay?" he asked, his voice gruff from sleep. He propped himself up on his elbows, wincing at the sore stiffness that had set in.

"I think Tristan may be in trouble." Gordon looked unconcerned. "Don't you wonder where he went off to?" Sam asked.

"I guess," though it was more than obvious that it was one of the last things on his mind. "Why would you think that, anyway? Have some crazy dream or something?"

It was an offhand comment which had more meaning than Gordon knew. However, that was not the case this time. "I swear I heard those creatures screaming."

"You think you could hear them from here? I mean, the cave's not really that close." Gordon was being a little pig headed and it was a little baffling. Could he possible hate Tristan that much that he didn't give a shit what happened to him? Sam couldn't say that he liked the guy but that didn't mean you wrote him off.

Gordon was not blind to these thoughts. He sighed. "So you think we ought to head up there and check it out?"

Sam shrugged having already decided that he was going to go regardless.

Gordon threw back the blankets and laboriously got to his feet. "How do you feel?" he asked Sam as he stretched out his kinks and aches.

Sam shook his head, "fine, considering. You?" He was wondering now if Jack would have been more up to the chase.

Gordon just huffed and pulled on a shirt and his bloodied jacket. "Grab some gear, would ya Sam."

Sam nodded and went to sort quickly through the pile of weapons and ammo.

Gordon shook Jack who took more convincing to open his eyes. "We're going up to the cave, think Trist may be up there," he whispered hoping not to completely wake him up. But that sentence alone was jarring enough and Jack was alert and sat up in confusion.

"You're going now? Why the hell would he be up there now?"

"He's done dumber shit," was all Gordon responded with, not mentioning that they were chasing Sam's gut instincts, and that was it. "Stay here, you still look like death warmed over, so you may as well get some more sleep."

"Not bloody likely," he countered as he watch Sam and Gordon leave the cabin through still blurry eyes.

***

They moved purposefully and quickly through the stillness of the woods. Sam was beginning to wonder if he had imagined the noises. It didn't make a whole lot of sense for Trist to be out by the cave, but then if Gordon had thought that why hadn't he said something? Obviously it was a possibility.

Gordon was in a serious mood and puffed on in silence as they drove relentlessly down the path. Sam was okay with this, it was late and if this proved to be a wild goose chase it would be better if they got back to the cabin quickly. It was not the hour to be roaming these particular woods.

All too quickly they came upon the end of the path and the towering barricade of rock. Sam shone his light down the stretch of wall towards the mouth of the cave. Everything remained uneasily at peace. Gordon looked at Sam, trying to read his thoughts without breaking the calm with questions. Sam cocked his head in the direction of the cave and Gordon followed him towards it.

He only got a couple feet when the smell of blood halted him in his tracks. He pointed the beam of light directly at the ground this time. Gordon had stepped up beside him and was shaking his head, aware of the tense atmosphere which had settled around the. Sam spotted the first couple of dark spotted stains to the right of them. They had decorated the fallen leaves and grass in a foreboding spatter.

Gordon crouched closer to the ground, pretending to get a better look. Sam didn't miss the beat of worry that crossed his face. He drew the beam along the forest floor, away from them, as the spatter quickly grew into small pools and then a shocking massacre in which a tattered backpack lay in the center. Gordon quickly flashed the beam in a different direction and cupped a hand over his mouth.

Sam didn't bother to illuminate the area himself. They had seen more than enough. Instead he stepped forward and scanned the surrounding area for the sign of a body, or anything to reveal what had happened. There was nothing more to be seen, at least not now in the dark. Besides, the scene mimicked exactly the cases that had lead Sam and Dean up here in the first place.

Gordon was still crouched in shock, his flashlight hanging limply in his hand. It had been a crushing realization for him. Sam returned to his side not really sure how to be a comfort, but then again there really was no way to provide consolation in this case.

Gordon stood up before Sam could reach him anyway. They had both heard the far off rustling of branches. "Let's head back... now" he managed to choke out in a low voice and turned away from the bloody clearing.

Sam followed as Gordon made haste back to the cabin, glancing nervously above their heads the entire way.


	22. Chapter 22

TWENTY TWO

It was still dark as they arrived at the cabin. The excursion had taken less than an hour, but to Gordon the trek back had felt like an eternity. He had gone over a million different ways to tell Jack but none of them felt right. He grabbed Sam's shoulder as they approached the door. "Hey, I uh, think it's best if we don't mention anything to Jack."

Sam was halted in his tracks and looked back at Gordon speechless and concerned. It certainly wasn't his place to tell Gordon what was best for his own friends, but Sam just couldn't understand the way these hunters communicated, or didn't, with each other.

Gordon looked quickly away from Sam's troubled eyes. "Look, I know what your thinking, but I've been hunting with Jack for years and this just isn't the time to tell him."

"So, what do you propose the next step is then?" Sam asked wondering if they were just going to let Trist's death be the end of it. Would they slink back out of the woods or fight it through to the end. Lord knows Dean and Sam had stumbled across enough hunts that had seemed partially explored and then abandoned. It was definitely not the Winchester way. At this point Sam was fired up enough to head back to the cave and kill every last one of the damned creatures no matter what it took. If Dean had been well that's exactly what would have happened.

Gordon was silent in thought for a couple of minutes. "I'd still like to know exactly what we are up against but at least we know that bullets kill them, and I suppose that should be good enough." He sighed deeply. "Regardless of all that I'm not hunting them in the dark, they have too much advantage. Better that we get some rest and finish this job in the morning." He looked to Sam for confirmation.

Sam was glad that Gordon had said all he had. At least he knew they were on the same page, give or take a couple of details. He just nodded and opened the door to the cabin.

The light of a kerosene lantern exuded a comforting glow from the table in the corner. In its luminescence sat Jack and… Dean! Sam stumbled over the door jamb as the shock of seeing Dean sitting up caught all his attention . "Dean! You're awake!"

Both Jack and Dean had looked up from the table as the front door opened. Dean grinned at Sam and raised his good arm, which was holding a steaming mug, to toast Sam's arrival. His massacred arm was lying un-bandaged on the table as Jack's hands hovered with suture material above it.

Jack nodded at their arrival curtly. "Well?"

"Couldn't find anything," Gordon abruptly answered, "it was too dark. We'll have to go back in the morning."

Jack nodded again and turned back to Dean's arm. He was stitching up the couple of gashes that had been too wide when Dean's arm had been so swollen that first night. It seemed like ages ago. Dean still looked pale and beat to hell but his spirits seemed to be upbeat.

"Soup, Sammy?" Dean offered as Sam tentatively came closer, afraid that the bright scene would dissolve should he tempt it.

"You keep it," Sam said, allowing himself a small smile as Dean shrugged and chugged down more of the broth.

Jack was just finishing up the last couple of stitches. All the sutures were making Dean's arm look like it belonged to Frankenstein and it was speckled black, blue, and yellow with deep bruising. Sam cringed just looking at it and knew it still had to be painful. As Jack began to gently wrap it again, Dean took a long, deep sip of the soup to hide his grimace of discomfort. It was a good ploy but not good enough to fool his own brother. Once Jack had finished Dean gingerly stretched and flexed the fingers attached to his wounded arm. "Feels like new," he mused, continuing to feign his wellbeing for the benefit of all those present. "Ready for a bat hunt!"

Jack looked up sharply with raised eyebrows and nodded in a humouring way. Little did he know that Dean meant what he said.

Sam shook his head, slightly bemused as well. Dean would be Dean no matter what the circumstance. And Sam would be Sam and catch every slight clue he needed to decode just how well, or not well, Dean was doing. Right now Dean was doing a hell of a job covering up his weariness and pain. He would give him heck later for not taking it easy when they had a chance to be alone. He also had to discuss the recent night's excursion.

"I'm going to bed," Gordon announced stoically and retired to his own bundle of blankets on the floor, turning his back to the rest of them.

Jack yawned, "think I may try to get a little more shut eye too." He paused at Darrin's bedside, but he remained comatose and still.

Dean pushed himself up from the table. Sam had to hold himself back from steadying his wavering brother. But in seconds Dean was upright and mostly stable and he shuffled towards the cabin door. "Looks like a nice night, think I'll finish my soup outside." His tone was light but his eyes were intense and they beckoned Sam to come with him.

Sam looked back at Jack who was still hovering over Darrin's bed, then grabbed Dean's jacket before following him out the door. The night was brisk even though it was summer and he couldn't miss the shudder passing through his brother. "Humour me and wear this, okay." Dean rolled his eyes but Sam could tell that even standing up and walking outside had taken its toll. Sam simply draped the jacket over his shoulders as he was holding his sore arm close to his chest and the other hand still held the mug of soup.

They sat down on a couple of stumps surrounding a makeshift fire pit. "Your new friends seem alright," Dean remarked as he took another soupy swig. "Would have been better if it was a group of hot girls, and then I'd be more content to be nursed back to health." He grinned widely just imagining it and it was Sam's turn to roll his eyes.

"In your dreams."

"Yes, hopefully."

"Speaking of dreaming," Sam said trying not to sound to motherly. "You still need to get some rest."

"Oh yeah! Big day tomorrow, I know." Dean was full of enthusiastic sarcasm and as annoying as it usually was Sam would have had it no other way. However, on top of the sarcasm Sam could tell that Dean figured he was back in the game, just like that.

"Dean, you're not coming. You were almost dead a couple of hours ago. It'll just be me and Gordon finishing this job."

"Bullshit. There's no chance in hell I'm going to let you go into that cave backed by a stranger. Not happening, Sam." Dean's mood had changed very quickly to something Sam was more use to seeing in his father. Now that their dad was gone Dean had more and more of these stern, don't give me any crap moments.

In spite of this, considering the circumstances, there was no chance in hell Sam was letting Dean come. "Look, you probably don't remember the guy that helped me get you to the cabin, but if he hadn't come along, well… things were not going well." Dean just stared silently, waiting for Sam to make his point. "Anyway, he went off on his own and now his story is the same as all the ones we traced up here."

"All the more reason to get on top of this thing and find out what's going on. Some of those people may still be alive."

Sam shook his head. "I don't know about that, you didn't see this scene, it was a massacre. I don't even know what would be left of a person after loosing that much blood."

"Hang on, this is one of their buddies? You think they'd be a little more worked up?"

"Well, Jack doesn't know, Gordon didn't want to tell him until the morning. I think he's more upset than he is leading on. Remind you of anybody."

Dean harrumphed, but chose to make no further comment.

"The point is, Tristan was uninjured and prepared…"

"Then he wasn't a very good hunter."

Dean didn't know the half of that statement and Sam wasn't going to tell him. It was counterproductive to his argument. "I don't know how good a hunter he was but they got the best of us too," he pointed out.

"We didn't know what we were up against."

"Well he did, and now you're hours off your death bed…"

"Don't be so dramatic. And besides you're all scratched to hell too!" He was starting to work himself up and the strain was draining his energy quickly.

"Dean!" Sam had to take a deep sigh to calm himself. He needed to diffuse and sate Dean for the time being. "There's still some planning we need to do. We can go over it in the morning."

Dean took a couple of deep tension-filled breaths but then sagged in defeat, his elbows propped on his knees to support himself, empty mug hanging from his hand. The conversation had visible worn him down and the previous determined fire was fizzling by the seconds. Dean resigned himself for now, "fine."

This time as Dean rose, slowly and more cautiously, Sam didn't hesitate to give his brother a hand. Dean made minimal protests but eventually let Sam guide him back into the silent, dark cabin. By the time they arrived at the cot Dean was practically sleep walking. Sam shook his head wondering how Dean figured he would manage a hunt tomorrow. In the morning, with Jack and Gordon as back up, they would just have to remove his brother's ludicrous notions , or perhaps tie him to the bed.


	23. Chapter 23

TWENTYTHREE

Sam slept much later then he intended and if it hadn't been for the Gordon's loud rummaging he may have just continued to sleep through the entire morning. He sat up and stretched out the stiffness that came with sleeping on an unforgiving floor. He looked over at Dean dozing like a baby on his soft bed; the lucky bastard.

He then turned to see what all the racket was about. Gordon was furiously searching through the packs which had all been piled by the door. Most of the contents was now strewn on the floor.

Jack was standing above him, arms crossed, shaking his head. "Maybe Tristan took one of the packs, maybe they were in there," he was saying.

"Well, that's just great isn't it." He stood up and tossed the bag he had just empty at the wall.

"So, if we don't where Trist is, then we don't know where the last bag is, and we don't have the flares." Jack uncrossed his arms and went to stove as the tin kettle started to boil and rattle.

"That would appear to be the problem wouldn't it." As Gordon turned around he caught Sam in the corner of his eye. They both knew exactly where the last bag was. "Morning Sam," he said huskily. He turned back to Jack and roughly rubbed his forehead in stressful contemplation. "Jack, could you forget the coffee for a sec and accompany me outside."

Jack tentatively put down the kettle, "ooookay…" He looked at Sam and nodded a salutation, but his face was a picture of bewilderment and concern. He followed Gordon out the front door, much the same way Sam had followed Dean the night before. So that wasn't going to be a fun conversation but it had to be done. Sam figured they would be some time.

He stood up and took another long satisfying stretch before pulling on his pants and shirt. He couldn't help but think how refreshing it would be to get back to the Impala, find a hotel, shower, and don a clean pair of clothes. Well, he wasn't going to let the hot water go to waste. He went over to the kitchen and began spooning the instant coffee crystals into a mug.

"Hmm… Sammy… coffeeee." He looked over at his brother who had somehow sensed his intentions in his waking moments and was making requests before he had even opened his eyes.

"How're you feeling today, bro?" he asked as he mixed a mug up for Dean as well.

"Super dee duper." Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up to prove his claim of wellness.

Sam brought the two mugs over and sat on the bed beside Dean. "Bullshit. You didn't last very long last night. How do you figure you're going to hike back up to the cave and hunt down a hoard of monster bats?"

"I just will."

"Dean, you can't just face death and then jump out of bed like nothing happened."

"That's your opinion."

Christ, he was being stubborn. "No, that's your body's physiological opinion."

"Oh ho, so says Dr. Sam."

"Look, you're just not coming, that's final." He was trying to sound unyielding but he had never been able to pull that tone off very well.

"Who are you, dad now." If nothing else the order had pushed Dean passed the banter and he was becoming annoyed and angry. "I'll do whatever the hell I want to do." His volume had risen and he stood up abruptly in a temper. However, his unexpected change of altitude drain the blood from his head and he had to reach out for the wall as a wash of whiteness passed in front of his vision. The cup of coffee smashed on the floor. He closed his eyes and breathed through it, disgracefully aware that Sam was now vigilantly standing beside him, ready to catch his sorry ass should the spell overtake him. So there goes his whole argument. Damn it.

Sam touched his brother's shoulder after a couple of seconds but was shrugged away. "I'm fine."

"Why don't you sit back down."

"I said I'm fine, Sam." He turned back towards him, his eyes intense with anger at the whole situation.

Sam backed off. It was only then that he noticed another pair of eyes boring into him, taking in every single word of their brotherly spat.


	24. Chapter 24

TWENTYFOUR

Somehow, distracted by the dispute Sam had missed the rustling in the other bed; had missed a form shift and prop himself up to watch the two strangers arguing only a couple of feet away.

Dean followed Sam's gaze, but could not grasp the significance of the event. He had not been aware of the hard days during his sickness and the many depressing, dark points that had come up.

The three hunters regarded each other for a suspended moment, two of them mostly confused, one especially lost as to what was going on. Sam was not insensitive to this fact and, after checking that Dean was not going to topple over should he leave his side, he made his way over to their unacquainted, wary comrade.

Darrin flinched as Sam moved towards him, still much to weak to do anything more. It must have been terrifying to wake up to two strangers, alone, with no idea of their intentions. Sam had been there, a few times, so he would take things slow; ease Darrin's worries and then find his companions to give them the fantastic news.

"Hey, it's Darrin right?"

This elicited the slightest bob of his head in acknowledgement.

"We're not here to hurt you, we're friends of Jack and Gordon. I'm Sam, this is Dean." Sam noticed Darrin's eyes searching the cabin for a familiar face. "Your buddies just stepped outside," he added "and should be back any minute."

Darrin still remained taught but it looked like the mention of his friends did relax him a bit.

"My brother was bit by the same bats. You guys have been pretty sick the past few days."

Darrin chanced a glance at the door. Sam knew he wasn't going to get much further until somebody familiar could okay the situation.

"Hang on two seconds and I'll go find Jack." He crossed the cabin to the door and opened it, but Jack and Gordon were neither in sight nor in ear shot. Great. Sam turned back around. Darrin was laying down again, too exhausted to hold himself up any longer. Dean was just standing in the corner looking from Sam to Darrin, observing the exchange.

Sam walked back towards Darrin's bed. "They must have gone for a walk, but I can't imagine they'll be long."

Darrin managed a slight nod, deciding to trust the strangers for the time being, not that he had much of a choice.

"Do you need anything," Sam asked, "water, food?" But Darrin's eyelids were already beginning to droop with weariness and in another second he had drifted off again.

"Well, he's a really exciting guy," Dean said, having recovered from his spell enough to throw in a sarcastic comment.

Sam ignored his brother's remark knowing it was only due to his bad mood. "I wonder where Jack and Gordon took off to? They didn't say anything about going anywhere."

"Well, if the pack with the flares is still up at the cave, and _you_ guys think _you're_ going back into the cave, then they probably went to get it." Dean went and sat back down on the bed, arms crossed, brooding. "At least that's what I would do."

"Do you want breakfast?" Sam asked to try and break his sulking.

"Fine."

Sam went over to the kitchen and looked at the dwindling pile of cans. "Do you want soup, beans, or corn." He hadn't even realized, up until now, what a monotonous diet he must have been eating for the past few days. Man, would it feel good to eat something that wasn't out of a can.

"How about a hamburger?" Dean said grumpily, not helping the situation any.

"How about some beans." Sam cracked open a can and poured it into the gritty pot already on the stove.

"This place needs a TV," Dean complained.

Sam was already wishing Dean was feeling less well, just enough so that he would feel more like napping and less like complaining. "Why don't you read a book? There's plenty of educational material around here." He picked up one of the random texts and gave it to Dean.

Dean harrumphed and settled on the bed, his back against the wall, and began angrily flipping through the pages. Sam picked one up too, just for something to do.

Dean had already flipped through about four books when he suddenly sat up a little straighter and looked up at Sam. "Hey, I thought you said you guys didn't find anything in these books."

"Uh," Sam was a little caught off guard. "I never really looked through them. Gordon and Tristan were doing the research. Jack and I were, well busy…" He let his last couple of words fade away.

Dean cocked an eyebrow. "Sure… anyway, they must have missed this page." He flipped the book around and held it open for Sam to see. There was a faded black and white sketch of a grotesque winged man surrounded by several large bat-like forms, two crouched by his feet with their wings folded in and another three circling his head. "Sure looks like those fugly freaks to me."

Sam got up from the table to take a closer look at the picture. "Yeah… it does." He shook his head in disbelief that Dean had stumbled upon the picture so quickly. "I wonder how they missed that." Even as he asked the question he knew the answer. He would have put money on that being one of Tristan's books.

"Don't ask me, they're your friends." Dean handed the book to Sam so he could read the accompanying text. "Did you tell them you're the brains of our team and research is your forte. Maybe then you could have been doing something useful for the past couple of days."

"No, I did not tell them that," Sam said a little absently as he scanned the words, totally missing Dean's jibe. Dean waited for a delayed come back but Sam was now enthralled by the book.

After a couple of minutes of reading his looked up. "This doesn't look too good."

"Does it ever look good?"

"No, this really doesn't look good. Those bats are one thing, but this guy in the middle… It says he is known as Camazotz, an ancient Mayan demon with the body of a human and head of a bat; associated with night, sacrifices, and death."

"Sounds like my kind of guy." Dean smirked.

Sam continued scanning the page. "That's nothing. Here it says that Camazotz inhabits the Bat House which one must pass through on the way to the underworld."

"Bat House, Mayan underworld?" Dean questioned, thinking this sounded a little too sci-fi, even for them. "Last time I checked we weren't in Gotham or Mexico."

"Yeah, it all fits pretty well except the geography, doesn't it."

"What about the little flying bastards? They must be his henchmen, sidekicks, go-fers, that sort of thing??"

Sam just nodded not liking this new development at all. If this demon and his creatures were suppose to be found on the way to the underworld did that mean… "Dean," Sam looked at his brother with intensity and unease. "Do you thing this cave is an entrance to hell?

Dean shook his head, feeding off of his brother's apprehension, wishing he could answer no. "I sure as hell hope not."


	25. Chapter 25

TWENTYFIVE

The whole walk back from the cave Jack had felt nauseous and empty. Gordon had warned him on the way up what they were going to find, but it hadn't diminished the shock of actually seeing it. All that blood and no body in sight. He couldn't help but be a little angry with Tristan for being such a stupid ass and getting himself killed. When they arrived back at the cabin Jack almost felt like passing it by and getting out of these god forsaken woods once and for all. Another friend, hopelessly lost to them, was waiting inside and it was just too damn depressing. He figured it might be nice to head back to the beaches of Cali and take a little vacation, maybe for good.

"Jack," Gordon said as they neared the cabin. "Are you doing okay?" It was the first words they had spoken since the hike to the cave that morning.

Jack just shrugged, what did it matter? He was caught in this nightmare no matter how bad he was feeling.

Gordon shrugged as well and turned to go inside. Jack followed and almost stumbled into him when he stopped in his tracks. There was a line of salt at the door.

"We didn't salt the doorway did we?" Gordon asked but when he was met with a careless stare from Jack he shrugged and carefully stepped over the grainy line. The atmosphere he crossed into was drastically different from the one they had left this morning. It gave him the feeling that he had been gone a lot longer than a couple of hours.

Their arrival was digested by three pairs of anxious, curious eyes. The hunters that had been left behind, weak or unconscious, were now sitting around the table encircled with numerous open books. Sam was leaning over Dean's chair pouring over the same text as his brother. Jack and Gordon's arrival had halted their intense studying. And the scene at the table had more than surprised them in turn. Gordon could actually hear Jack's breath hitch in his throat.

"Uh, hey guys," was all Gordon could manage to articulate through his shock.

Jack, on the other hand, recovered quickly from the initial shock as relief and happiness swam through him. Despite the presence of almost strangers, he stumbled into the cabin and practically fell on top of Darrin with a clumsy hug.

Somehow Darrin's face managed to look confused, embarrassed, and elated all at once.

Jack finally broke the embrace so he could scrutinize his friend's condition. "How are you feeling? Nauseous, weak, in pain? Do you need anything? Are you thirsty or hungry?"

Darrin looked to Gordon to confirm that this anxious, jittery fellow was really the calculating and composed Jack that he was use to.

Gordon shrugged, slightly bemused by the situation. "Jack, he looks fine, why don't you give the boy a little space."

Darrin nodded to confirm Gordon's speculation. "I'm fine, really, no worries."

Jack reluctantly stood up, eyeing Darrin with uncertainty. "So… you guys have been reading to pass the time?"

"Not exactly," Darrin said and slid an open book across the table so Jack and Gordon could look at the picture of Camazotz.

"Who the hell is that?" Gordon said as he stepped closer to examine the page.

"Well, in a nutshell," Dean started nonchalantly, "he's basically just a Mayan demon guarding one of the gates to hell." Only Sam was able to tell that Dean's tone was saturated with sarcasm.

"Oh is that all," Gordon said unsure of how else to respond to Sam's brother. He picked up the book and read it for himself.

"Basically we're fucked," Darrin said, putting it all rather bluntly.

"Basically," Dean agreed.

Gordon handed the book back to Sam after reading it, looking slightly dubious. "So how come we haven't see the bastard yet?"

"Several reason," Sam said, trying to catch Jack and Gordon up. "Firstly, we figure he's not too keen on the light of day being a bat out of hell and all, so he's staying deep in the cave. Secondly, he has all these bat cronies to do his bidding, like bring him food… oh speaking of, he eats flesh, all kinds." Jack shuddered at the mention of this particularly grisly detail. Sam cast him a concerned glance before continuing. Thirdly, he is the guard to this particular gate and it would be negligent to leave it unattended, hence the cronies in the first place."

"Okay…" Sounded reasonable. "But why here? Why now?"

"That is going to require more research, most likely at a local level."

"So, some of us head back into town, some of us take care of the demon," Gordon suggested.

"No," Jack said, finally snapping back into the conversation. "Some of us still need to be resting." He looked hard at Darrin, but only chanced a fleeting glance at Dean. "And the rest of us shouldn't be barging in or something we know nothing about."

"Jack, for christs sake, it's just a demon." At this Jack's eyebrows raised incredulously. It looked like Gordon was very familiar with the response. "Okay, so that's a little heavier than usual, but there's still rules and methods to go by. Trap it, exorcise it, done."

"Well, if it's all so easy, let's get on with it." He crossed his arms, challenging Gordon to march out the door that instant and deal with the business in a fast, neat, and tidy manner.

Sam was beginning to feel like he was in the middle again. At least when there was just the two of them there were only two opinions to deal with. "We've lost the light for today, anyway," Sam interrupted hoping to diffuse things a bit.

"Sam's right, we'll head out first thing tomorrow," Gordon stated. There was a stubborn finality in his declaration and nobody bothered to argue it. "In the meantime I'm heating up some beans."

Sam felt Dean groan silently beside him. If a simple burger was all he needed to get his strength back Sam would have travelled miles to find one. Unfortunately, all Dean needed was time. So, as much as Sam wanted to have his brother on this hunt, covering his ass, there was no way he was letting him come along. And leaving him behind willingly was bound to be a challenge in itself.


	26. Chapter 26

TWENTYSIX

Dinner was mostly quiet. Everyone was consumed by their own thoughts swirling around in their heads. Darrin barely made it through his bowl of beans and fell asleep as Jack was trying to check his bandages. Gordon silently reorganized the packs for the now specific purpose of demon hunting. It left Sam and Dean a nice, quiet moment to escape the cabin without missing any pertinent planning.

Now that it was just the two of them Sam was able to truly gage how Dean was doing. He still looked beat but definitely improved since the previous evening. "If I ask how you're feeling are you going to tell me straight?"

Dean cocked his eyebrow, amused. "If I tell you straight would you believe me?"

"Depends what you tell me."

"Uh huh, that's what I thought." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small steel flask. He unscrewed the cap and took a swig, then offered it to Sam.

"Where did you get that?"

Dean shrugged and swallowed another mouthful for himself. "I don't know, that Gordon guy gave it to me. I guess he's alright."

"You would think that..."

They both turned, alerted by a distant snap far off in the woods. One's instincts mirrored the other's perfectly; attuned to every reflex, every intuition. No other sounds came out of the woods and they both relaxed into a comfortable silence.

"Sam." Dean finally interrupted the quiet, "do you really trust these guys. I mean, we don't know their abilities, their history... how many demons have they taken out…? A lot of questions bro."

"If you're worried about me…"

"I'm worried about us. These other hunters, they're just going to get in the way."

"Dean." Sam tried to stop him before he got ahead of himself.

"It'd be better to send them back to town. One is probably dead. I think they're in way over their head."

"Dean, I've already been back to the cave with Gordon. He's good at what he does." Dean just shook his head, dismissing this idea. "And, yeah, to answer you're question I trust he knows what he's doing and am okay with going after this demon with him."

"Well, I don't know if I am."

Christ he was being stubborn. Two could play at that game. "Doesn't matter, you're staying here."

"Like hell I am."

"Dude, if it comes down to it I will beat you unconscious myself."

"You…" he stopped mid-sentence, jaw tight with anger, but with nothing more to say. Dean's lack of fight was a damn good indication of how he truly felt. "Fine," he finally said gruffly. "I'm going to sleep." He returned to the cabin and left Sam in a the uncomfortable wake of his mulish mood.

Sam eventually followed Dean inside. Gordon and Jack had both retired and the cabin was filled with peaceful snoring. The quarrelling brothers retired to their own beds and both fell asleep without saying another word.

It felt like only seconds before Sam was waking up again. Gordon was crouched beside him, nudging his shoulder quietly. Jack was already up, boiling some water on the stove.

"We're pretty much ready to go." Gordon informed him, nodding towards the door and three bulging backpacks.

"Jack's coming?" Sam asked as he blinked the sleep away.

"Yeah," Gordon said though he didn't sound entirely pleased with the idea. "He wants to… says Dean and Darrin will be fine for the day." He paused contemplating this notion and then shrugged. "I think he feels he owes it to Trist. Besides, I guess it can't hurt to have one more hunter, the more the merrier, right?"

Sam cocked his eyebrow, amused but sceptical. He chanced a glance at Dean, who was laying with his back to them on his cot. His breathing was rhythmic and deep but Sam could tell he obviously wasn't sleeping.

"They'll be fine," Gordon said, unaware that Sam was more worried that Dean would renew his protests about staying behind, than how he was going to make it through a day without someone nursing him.

Sam got up and pulled his trousers on. He look at Dean who was very effectively maintaining his fake slumber. Well, best to let sleeping beasts lie, Sam thought and silently accepted the cup of instant coffee he was being offered.

Jack and Gordon were all business this morning and without any banter or bickering they hurriedly finished their cups of coffee and were ready to go. The two collected their packs and told Sam they'd wait outside as he finished up the last couple of mouthfuls in his own mug.

Sam stood over Dean's bed, rifle in one hand, bag in the other, wishing his brother would at least roll over and acknowledge that he was leaving. "Dean?" No response… not even a hitch in his uniformed breaths. "We're going now. We'll be back before nightfall…" Still no reply. Fine, if he was going to be that way. Sam was getting what he wanted and if that cost him a couple of days with a pissed of brother then so be it. He waited a couple more heartbeats and was rewarded with a brief, fuming grunt. A least it was something. Satisfied, he left the cabin to join the others outside under the grey mist of the early day.

It was only fifteen minutes later when Dean pulled his aching body from the warmth of the bed. Damn, it was cold in the cabin. The chill locked in his joints and chest, and his body shuddered furiously. With luck there would still be some water in the kettle for a cup of joe and then, in less than an hour, he too could be on his way.


	27. Chapter 27

TWENTYSEVEN

Darrin awoke to an empty cabin. Where the devil had everyone gone? It took a couple of minutes for the fog of sleep to clear from his mind. It was then that he remembered the prospective hunt for the demon and the plans to be off at early dawn. The strange thing was the other empty bed. How had Dean managed to convince them to let him come? He swung his legs to the floor and tried to stretch out the soreness and fatigue. As far as he could tell the sun was still an hour away from rising. They couldn't have left that long ago. If he hurried he might be able to catch them before the cave.

After dressing smartly for the brisk morning hike he began to pack the last remaining satchel; his own, which had remained mostly emptied and forgotten since their arrival. Along with the pound of salt and canteen of holy water which he always had in it, he threw in the few remaining rounds which had been left behind. He loaded his rifle and hand gun, clipped his two silver blades to his belt and last, but not least, tied a sling from a torn sheet to support his aching shoulder. The sling took the strain for his muscles and eased the pain that shot through the wounds whenever he moved it. That would do. He rummaged enough to find two last power bars in the bottom of his pack and with this breakfast in hand he left the cabin.

***

Dean hadn't gotten far up the path when a far off snap halted his progress. Listening more attentively he could hear something behind him making its' way down the beaten path. He rolled his eyes, but really wasn't all that surprise that he was being followed. He took up a perch on a fallen log and decided to wait for the last damaged hunter that had been left behind.

He wasn't going to blame Darrin for making the choice he had and, despite worrying that he may be in the way, he knew he couldn't let him meet some sticky end. Their group had suffered enough loss and Darrin was in no condition to be pulling any solo stunts. Truth be told, there was somewhere, deep deep down, where Dean knew he was not at his best either. Heck, his arm still hurt like a bitch, his head throbbed like a muted timpani, and even his relaxed stroll was draining more energy than it should. Man, Sam was going to be pissed when they finally regrouped.

It wasn't long before Darrin came roughly up the trail. Damn, that boy was pushing hard to catch up, Dean thought as he nodded to the approaching form.

Upon seeing Dean, Darrin gratefully took up a spot on the log and hung his head low, panting out his exhaustion. In the zesty cool of the morning he was still breaking a sweat. There was no way he would be able to maintain this pace.

Dean regarded him with a bit of concern but didn't hassle him about it. "Didn't feel like staying behind either?" he asked instead.

Darrin shook his head with a look of puzzlement. After a couple of minutes of catching his breath he was able to get out a couple of words out. "Where are the others?" he panted.

"Up ahead, probably by a lot." Dean looked up the trail wondering if they had already reached the cave by now. "We should keep moving if we want to catch up."

Darrin nodded still a bit bewildered. "So you didn't leave with them?"

"Hell no," he answered as he rose and hiked his pack up on his good arm. "There was no way my brother was seeing me leave that cabin. If it were up to him I'd be bed ridden for weeks."

"Oh…" Not that this information changed Darrin's mind about coming along but it did make him a bit nervous. He glanced at Dean, who was looking only slightly better than he felt. He held his left arm tight to his chest and wasn't using it at all; his pack and gun slung solely over his right side. Great, they were the one armed bandits. Darrin sighed and rose as well, following Dean who was waiting a couple of steps down the path. Without another word they set off up the path, one behind the other.

It was a long and silent trek up to the cave. Neither one wanted to be the first to need a break so they marched onwards without rests, each one pushed to their physical limits to keep going. When the cliff face finally came in sight Dean couldn't have been happier. They huffed and puffed their way over to the mouth. Darrin had dropped his pack before Dean even had a chance to turn around.

"Break?" Dean suggested and Darrin just nodded, too busy gasping for air to reply. Dean crouched down and hung his head, sucking in some well deserved deep breaths as well. Both boys were red-faced and damp with sweat, shoulders aching from their loads, drained but not done in, not yet.

Over the course of the trek it was becoming more and more obvious how the two strangers emulated each others. Having both endured the same injury and illness over the past few days there was no denying the small connection that such an experience could build. Obviously, it was nothing as strong as friendship or brotherhood, but definitely an intense understanding between the two. Dean knew if he was exhausted and hurting so was his companion. At the same time, he felt the same persistence and diligence that drove him was also there, behind that different set of eyes. It gave him the uncanny sensation that he was hunting with himself.

Darrin, still puffing heavily, was up and peering curiously into the crevice. He hadn't made it this far the first time around and had he known how tight the fit was he might have reconsidered the plan. Spelunking into some confined, black space was not on his 'do before you die' list. "Looks a little tight," he commented hoping that Dean wouldn't pick up on his inhibitions. "How far did you guys get in last time?"

The experienced hunter had caught the glint of worry anyway. "It opens up… eventually," Dean answered as he watched Darrin for a response. But whatever qualms he was having had already been tucked away. "There's a large cavern a couple of yards in," he continued. "That's where we were attacked so we didn't get further than that."

Darrin nodded in acceptance, "fair enough." He flexed the fingers on his injured side a couple of times and then removed the sling, wincing slightly as the support was taken away. He pulled the backpack straps over both shoulders, bracing himself as the weight settled on his wound. There was no other way, it would have to be endured.

Rising from his crouch Dean pulled his own pack on the same way. His arm was screaming in protest from all the activity it was being put through. When the day was over and the battle won there would plenty of time for rest. In the meantime, he didn't really have a choice, it would have to be endure

Darrin was waiting patiently to the side to let Dean lead the way. No time like the present. Dean took one more breath of fresh air and then ducked into the fissure, instantly being swallowed by the blackness. Darrin was right behind him wondering where the other half of their party was at and when they would catch up with them.


	28. Chapter 28

TWENTYEIGHT

So far the morning had been uneventful. Gordon and Jack were happily gabbing away in front of Sam as they hiked up the trail. Jack was in much better spirits and the horrors of yesterday were all but washed away. Sam had a feeling it was mostly due to Darrin's return to health, and less with the fading memory of Tristan's untimely demise. If it hadn't been for the fact that they were off to kill a demon the whole outing had a 'Sunday in the park' feel.

Regardless of all the merriment, Sam couldn't help but keep glancing behind them, half expecting Dean to pop out of the woods. So help him if he did. But nothing happened and all too soon they were at their destination; all jokes and smiles were put aside. After a little rearranging of gear and organizing of light sources there was nothing more to be said or done except enter the cave.

Sam went first, having already negotiated the crevice twice now, and Gordon and Jack were close to follow. Knowing what to expect made the crawl much faster and all too soon the walls expanded into the large water-filled chamber.

Sam waited for Gordon and Jack to emerge into the opening, ears wide open the entire time. They figured if they were quiet the creatures would remain sleeping long enough to find out how deep the rabbit hole went. Then, Gordon pointed out that fighting a demon and his little bat army was not going to be a particularly good time. Good point.

In the end, they all reluctantly agreed that the more they could kill prior to the climatic exorcising the better off they'd be. To this effect Gordon popped out of the tunnel, flashed his light across the cavern and fired a shot at the distant wall. "Alright, you little bastards," he yelled into the black, "come on out and play."

Sam cringed, he was more of a subtle hunter than that, though it did feel a bit like something Dean would say and do.

Jack crawled out of the passageway last, but not least. He paused to listen with the others after Gordon's goading ruckus. Nothing. "I don't think they heard you," Jack said stoically, while inwardly he was filled with relief. Although he had yet to encounter one of the demon bats he had seen more than enough of the damage they could do.

"Let's move forward," Sam suggested when the cave remained still and vacant. "Keep alert, we didn't get too far last time."

The party moved slowly and deliberately along the ledge. This time they were about half way into the cavern when Sam halted the group to listen. He was sure that he had heard a movement of wind above their heads.

Gordon shone his beam upwards but didn't expect to see anything. They were too smart for that. "At least they are consistent and methodical."

"At least…?" Jack murmured unpleasantly from the tail end of the procession.

"Yeah," Gordon looked over his shoulder but could only recognize Jack by the light of his flashlight. "Consistency makes rules and rules make things easier to hunt. Hence…" Gordon didn't have a chance to finish, Sam had hushed them sharply.

There was a beat of stony silence and then Sam shouted for everyone to 'get down.' The other two hunters obeyed thoughtlessly. A current of heated purpose passed unseen above their heads.

"Light the flares?" Jack asked, poised for a confirmation.

"Not yet." Sam instructed. "There's only one scouting the scene. We need to get it to call the others."

Gordon stood up and fired off a random shot in the direction the bat had flown off in. When Jack nudged him from behind in a 'what the hell' kind of way he just shrugged. "That would make me want some backup."

Sam was going to say something about being a little less reckless when the cave was filled with three sharp, echoing yawps. It was impossible to pinpoint the exact position due to all the reverberation, but it was undoubtedly from their first little friend.

"Looks like a call for back up." There was smugness laced through his every word. Another Dean-ism that should have been coming from Dean. Sam almost rolled his eyes from habit, but when the air crackled with expectancy he snapped back to the mission at hand.

Ever so quietly he inched back so he was right against the craggy rock. He didn't want any surprise attacks from behind. "Get against the wall," he murmured just loud enough for Jack and Gordon to hear.

His suggestion was too late as a rush of wings came barrelling towards them from the way they had come. Sam had barely thought out his warning when Jack spun with his shotgun raised and fired blindly into the dark. There was a heavy thud as the bat landed about a meter from Jack's feet. Gordon flashed his light on the form and Jack put a point blank bullet into its head disintegrating it into a bloody spattering of brains and fur.

The attack, which had been advancing from Sam's side almost simultaneously, had withdrawn and could be heard fluttering dubiously above their heads. Gordon shone his beam upwards and the bats dispersed quickly to the sides. All three of them had their guns poised now, but the flapping had stopped and the cavern lay silent once again.

Both Jack and Gordon now moved against the wall next to Sam. Nobody dared to speak a word and miss a crucial clue for the next attack. It never came.

Minutes passed without a sound from up above. Sam was the first to step forward and acknowledge that there wasn't going to be another attack. At least for now. "Let's carry on," he said as he fumbled around at his feet for his discarded pack. "We'll be seeing them again the closer we get to their nest."

The other two hunters could be heard recollecting themselves in the dark. Gordon's beam shone again on the dead bat as he kicked it into the cavern's pool. "Nice shot, Jack."

Jack humbly said nothing, but Sam had to agree. He would have never pegged Jack as a fighter and especially not a crack shot, but obviously he could hold his own. Good, maybe they wouldn't be as screwed after all.

They shuffled uneventfully down the remaining length of the shelf. At the far end they were faced with two obvious alcoves. One was about ten feet directly up and tucked in the corner where the two walls met, and the other was across the pool on a outcrop level with the surface of the water.

"I vote upwards." Gordon suggested while he tested the handholds as Jack illuminated the wall.

Sam shone his own beam across the water. Even though the width of the lake had tapered significantly the prospect of swimming across was so not appealing.

When Sam turned back to the other two Gordon was just able to peak into the opening. "Does it go anywhere?" Sam asked, unable to see for himself.

"Uh…" Gordon's upper half disappeared from their sight. "Yeah…" he eventually shouted back. "Looks a little tighter than the way in, but it's gotta go somewhere, there's a draft." He pulled himself completely up into the gap and manoeuvred around so he could light the next man's ascent.

After slinging his gun across his back Jack scaled up to the crevice quickly and took Gordon's place. "Don't go too fast," Sam heard Jack chide after his partner as he made his way into the passage.

Due to Sam's height the hole was only about another arm's length away for him and in two reaches he too was pulling himself into the crevice. Jack had twisted around and was inching into the narrowing tunnel. It wasn't ridiculously tight but enough so that there would be no turning around.

Just before Sam was about to duck in behind Jack he snapped back around on pure instinct. He could have sworn he had heard movement. His light revealed nothing. Jack's voice echoed from down the tunnel, "Sam? You coming?"

"Yeah…" He turned back around just in time to miss seeing the bat bomb dive towards the gap. No matter; he felt the fast approaching form bearing down upon him. He flipped onto his back to face his adversary, but found his shotgun tangled underneath him. Damn crawl space. The bat had to tuck its wings to descend upon Sam and it did so falling with its talons upon his leg. It didn't waste any time and sunk its teeth into Sam's thigh as he fumbled with the gun. The burst of pain gave Sam a flood of adrenalin and with a roar he yanked the barrel forward and pulled the trigger before the bat even knew what was happening. The creature was obliterated before Sam's eyes, spattering him with sticky entrails and blood.

He let his head hang back towards the stony ground, gritting his teeth against the stinging numbness flooding up his leg. Jack was calling him but was wedged up the tunnel, unable to move backward without kicking Sam in the head. Further up the passage he could indistinctly hear Gordon as well.

"Fine, I'm fine," he said through his clenched teeth. He propped himself up again just in case more bats came down at him. If they were smart they would back off as they had done before. It was a good try but the tunnel had just funnelled the sucker to his death. Sam softly snorted to himself in triumph and wondered how many more were left.

"Sam," Jack was pleading for a more thorough answer. "What the hell happened?"

"One came in through the tunnel…" His leg up to his hip was completely numb now; no need to bring it up yet. If he could drag himself through the tunnel until it opened up they could deal with it then. "It's shot and dead," and he left it at that, tapping Jack's foot to tell him to keep moving forward, that he was right behind him.


	29. Chapter 29

TWENTYNINE

When Darrin unfolded himself from the crevice into the open cavern he couldn't have been more relieved. Even the air felt wider and fresher; well, as fresh as a musty water-filled cavern could be. He caught Dean waiting expectantly to the side of a black pool which swallowed the beam of his light as completely as the length of black stretching in front of them. Darrin sighed inwardly and shuddered as he felt the weight of the cave bear down on his body and soul.

"How's it going?" Dean asked from the darkness, mostly in order to spur a feeling of normalcy from the grim ambience.

"Hmm," Darrin answered, clearly distracted and weary. "Not much of an option from here, I guess." His flashlight traced slowly along the ledge until the light had all but vanished.

"Nope," Dean answered and with a nod from Darrin began to make his way through the cavern. Other than a couple of echoing drips and the footsteps behind him the cave lay still. Despite this they made their way with painstaking caution and in a couple of millennia they reached the end of the pool without incident.

"Well, that was uneventful," Darrin remarked as the two of them surveyed the same two alcoves the others had about an hour before.

"Somehow, that doesn't feel like too much of a blessing." If Sam and crew had taken out the bat cronies then there should have been more evidence than the lonely blood pool they had come across. Dean had a bad feeling that they had retreated to let the big boss know something was up. This was worse case scenario but very probable considering the past 'learn or be burned' tactics of the little bastards. He was stuck in thought, staring up at the niche above his head, when Darrin nudged him with his elbow.

"I hate to say it, but I think we may have to tread some water on this one."

Dean nodded, knowing that if it was the only way then they would have made it work, but in reality the lower gap was much more obtainable. Darrin was shuffling around in the dark and Dean knew he was preparing his equipment to remain high and dry. He was truly beginning to appreciate his current partner's persistent 'ask no questions, push onwards' attitude.

As Dean pulled his own satchel from his back he heard a splash to his left as Darrin shuffled down the rocky ledge into the pool. He had his flashlight between his teeth and his gun and bag supported by his good shoulder. For his benefit Dean shone his own beam in a more effective path and kept his ears open and gun poised. If the bats had been waiting for an opportunity this was it.

Darrin was up to his waist in a couple of steps, then his chest, and then he was half way across. "Well, that's a bit of luck," he remarked as he slowly rose out of the water and made his way on to the outcropping. His companion's beam of light faltered and strayed upwards as he was pulling himself out of the water. "Dean?" A muted hush came from the dark across the pool.

It couldn't have just been Dean's imagination which had heard the scuttling above their heads. He meticulously searched the craggy walls but there was nothing. "Dean." He looked back at Darrin who was waiting anxiously to move on. "Toss your bag." Good idea, one less thing to carry. He swung the satchel back and forth a couple times with his good arm and then lobbed it across the pool to Darrin's awaiting hands.

The bag was heavy and Darrin grunted as his shoulder was forced to bear some of the weight. He was too far away for Dean to gauge how he was truly making out. Not that it would change anything. They were both doing a bang up job at ignoring the inevitable pains and fatigue that would eventually catch up with them, at least for now. "Keep sharp," he said as he lowered himself into the frigid water, gun and flashlight above his head, Darrin lighting his way.

Once on the outcrop they took one last glance around the vast cavern and then ducked, one behind the other, into the fractured rock.

They had only moved a couple yards into the tapering tunnel when Dean's worries began to manifest in the cave behind them. However, it was most certainly not in the manner of trouble he had expected. It began as the echoing of falling pebbles on the outcrop, some splashing into the pool. As Dean turned to glance behind them, the echoes grew to a rumble. "Move." Dean shouted above the growl of the cave. He pushed on Darrin's foot. "Now." Darrin shimmied forward on his stomach as fast as he could, Dean literally on top of his heels. The tunnel groaned and a heavy dust poured in on them as a mound of rock filled the mouth of the crevice.

The dust began to settled as the two boys coughed it violently from their lungs. Darrin was the first to recovery, being slightly further up the tunnel. "Dean?" He figured it was at least a good sign that there was such angry hacking coming from behind him. "Are you okay?" Dean coughed out a vague response but the passageway was much too narrow and Darrin was unable to turn around to check on him.

After a couple more minutes Dean was able to breath without inhaling the disintegrated stone and evaluate the situation a little more clearly. "Can you move forward any more?" he asked Darrin, who responded by shuffling further into the tunnel. Dean pulled himself forward as well, removing one bruised, crushed ankle from the rocky debris. "Well… guess we're not going back that way." He winced in the dark as he tested the tenderness of his ankle. "Please tell me this tunnel goes somewhere." The air seemed to be pressing in again.

"I'm pretty sure it does," Darrin answered and then paused to clear his throat with a robust hack. "I think there's some sort of flickering light up ahead." Sure enough, just past a bend in the tunnel was the indistinct animated glow of a… fire? He coughed again as the air around them seem to grow hazy and thick. "Call me crazy - cough - but it smells like - cough - smoke in here." The light was now almost completely filtered out by the increasing smog. He crawled forward a couple inches but was consumed by a suffocating wall of what was undeniably smoke. Dean was saying something, asking something of him, but his own hacking to clear his lungs was all he could concentrate on.

Dean was beginning to cough up a lung of his own. There was nowhere for them to go and it wasn't long before the coughing from his partner has decreased to ragged, shallow breathes. This thought only partially mattering to Dean as he felt his own consciousness slipping away. His lungs swelled painfully with effort. The last cognitive thought which crossed his mind was feeling Darrin being dragged away from him, down the tunnel.


	30. Chapter 30

THIRTY

Dean was jolted from his own unconsciousness by a lung tearing hack. It ripped from the base of his chest, through his throat, and violently brought up the last of the smoke he had inhaled. He meant to spit out a dark phlegmy gob that had risen as well, when he realized there was something truly unnatural about the position he was in. The cough alone had been awkward lying flat on his back, but as he tried to twist, roll, sit up, or move, he found his arms to be stretched above his head with the distinct burn of rope cutting into his wrists. His feet, too, were bound and stretched to the opposite end of what felt like a rocky slab. The position was pulling his body uncomfortably tight.

He blinked a couple times adjusting his eyes to the light, and yes there was light. It was nothing really; just a faint, orange, flickering glow, but in contrast to the darkness of the cave it was certainly significant. It crackled from somewhere behind him. Fire? Sure, why not, even demonic creatures needed to see.

He turned his head, peering over his damaged arm, to see if he could make out anything in the fire light. Not more than a couple feet away was another rock slab, large, rough, and table like. When the flame burned brightest the rock glowed with dark, sticky crimson. How sacrificial, thought Dean. And yes, true to sacrifice, there was a body trussed up the same way Dean was. It was less of a body and more of just body parts. Dean had to stare long and hard, to make sense of the massacre. One arm, ripped from its socket, hung lamely from the binds at the head of the table. The other arm was nowhere in sight. His torso was clumsily bisected and intestine filled the space between the two halves. As for his face, it was bloodied and unrecognizable. Dean wondered how long the poor bastard had suffered for, how much of it he had been conscious for? He looked just a bit harder at the face, hoping he wouldn't find a familiar feature, and he didn't. It had obviously been sitting there for a couple days.

He turned to look to his right and found even more slabs, neatly in a row, stretching away into the emptiness. Not all of them had bodies, but most gave indication that there had been some grisly demise. When the body on the slab next to him moved it just about stopped his heart. In the dim light he had not noticed it breathing. The guy let out a soft groan and rolled his head to face Dean. It was Darrin, looking a little worse for wear but otherwise intact. He looked blearily at him, letting things sink in slowly.

"Hmm," he finally said. Those were Dean's thoughts exactly. It was a predicament that would require a little problem solving.

Before either of them could voice their thoughts or concerns their attentions were turned to the far side of the cavern. From the dark depths came indications of an approaching form. Dean waited expectantly for it to come into the light. When the fire eventually cast its glow upon the figure it initially appeared to be a man; a very tall, naked, heavily built man. However, upon closer inspection the features of a beast where more obvious and its face was something entirely different. It had a round, protruding nose with leaf-like nostrils and two beady black eyes sat just beyond the bridge. Its ears were where they ought to be but bigger and more pointed than normal. Pretty much, all in all, it was the ugliest thing Dean had laid eyes on in a good, long while.

He was very, very tempted to point this out and was just about to when the beastie man picked up the dismembered torso to Dean's right and shoved its face into the abdominal cavity, slurping and grunting and tearing up a storm of viscera. Dean looked over at Darrin, who was watching with mortified terror at the barbaric display.

"Nice table manners," Dean said, wondering if the beast could even hear him with its face plunged into a plethora of bowel. It did and looked up sharply towards its newly acquired meals. It discarded the emptied torso carelessly on the ground and made its way to Dean's side. It bent down awkwardly and rubbed its nose along Dean's chest and then up his injured arm, snorting and smelling as it went. Dean had to turn his head to avoid inhaling too much of its rancid breath. The thing must have eaten a hundred rotting bodies and left the pickings between its teeth. Dean raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes exasperatingly at Darrin who just looked disgusted.

"You know I usual stick around first base on a first date." The creature snorted a big gob of snot all over Dean's arm in response. That was going to be great for wound healing, Dean thought. "Besides," he continued, "I wouldn't date a fugly SOB like you unless I was getting deeply compensated." Dean wasn't even sure if the thing understood what he was saying, but the taunting, irrefutably, had to be done. The creature stood up and emotionlessly held Dean's injured arm against the rock slab with one hand and exposed a set of two inch claws adorning the fingers of his other hand. He pointed one menacing claw at Dean and then sliced through the last of the tattered bandage that was protecting his arm. Without pause it then sliced into the longest of his healing wounds and drew the claw even deeper and longer down the length of his arm.

Dean couldn't have honestly said that a little torture had been unexpected, especially considering the condition of the other corpses, but it still hurt like a bitch. He gritted his teeth and it took everything for him to contain a painful yell. He managed a furious stare, but the creature was now licking its bloodied claws and didn't register its angry prey. "fucker," Dean hissed through clenched teeth. He could feel the stickiness of his blood pooling around his arm and head.

After sneering with a mouthful of small, razor-pointed teeth at the taste of Dean's blood the beast stalked towards Darrin instead. "Hey," Dean yelled, ignoring the agony running up and down his arm. "Hey fugly, do you seriously think I don't taste good enough for you?" The creature's beady emotionless eyes peered back towards this noisy pest.

Darrin's wide eyes bored into Dean as well, pleading for him to shut up. As much as Darrin did not want to be carved up by the demon, he did not want to watch Dean being carved up instead. Dean kept maliciously taunting the beast with every verbal abuse known to man. The beast looked between its two new victims and though it seemed to have few ways of showing expression there was an angry confusion growing behind its two dark orbs.

Eventually, Dean's annoying heckling won its attention and within a heartbeat it had sprung onto Dean's slab, looming over his head. One large hand clasped down on his throat. It was the most effective choke Dean had ever experienced, so tight he couldn't even mutter a single sound. The creature had been unexpectedly agile and Dean hadn't had a chance to take a last breath. All too quickly the white spots of unconsciousness were flashing before his eyes. Before it all slipped away Dean was wondering if his trachea was being crushed beyond repair and just maybe he wouldn't be waking up again.

Darrin found himself yelling for the demon's attention just had Dean had been doing seconds before. He wasn't as imaginative as his companion, but the demon was now officially pissed off and it didn't take much for him to loose interest in his lifeless victim. It stalked back towards Darrin, who was trying desperately to see if Dean was breathing. Not that it mattered, they were both as good as dead. He could only pray that his own death was good and fast so he wouldn't have to suffer disembowelment, amputation, dissection, or any other horror the demon was capable of inflicting. He decided he didn't want to know what was coming and tightly closed his eyes, his panicked panting consuming all sounds in the cave.

He felt the demon grab at his jacket and shirt, superficially scratching the flesh beneath, as it tore the material away to expose his chest and abdomen. Five claws traced down his chest drawing lines of fresh blood as they went. Darrin's breath hitched in his throat, caught in a moment of unadulterated dread. He squeezed his eyes even tighter, wishing himself away from this nightmare. But it was all too real and the next thing Darrin felt was an intense stabbing in his gut, following by a tearing as his belly was sliced down the side. The contents of his stomach rolled with poignant nausea, but if he was sick he'd surely aspirate the vomit in this position. Then he began to wonder why that even mattered when he was, at the least, going to bleed to death anyway. As he tried to work out these thoughts through spasms of agony the departure of the demon totally escaped his observation. And then, overwhelmed with his own fear and anguish, he succumbed to oblivion and was finally able to escape the nightmare.


	31. Chapter 31

THIRTYONE

Party number one had been crawling through crooks and crannies for what seemed like hours now. The darkness was seriously skewering Sam's sense of time. It was either that or the numbing throb of his leg which only now felt like it was finally beginning to ebb. He kept expecting the burning pain to take over but it never came. Sam was going to take that blessing with an ounce of salt. It only took a second for things to change, and those seconds were always unforeseen.

The boys moved wordlessly through the passageways, only making a remark or giving a word of warning when necessary. This made it very easy for Sam to keep quiet about his leg. When the tunnel finally opened into a small room, and standing was once again possible, Sam had a harder time concealing his injured limb. He clumsily used the craggy wall to pull himself to his feet, his numb leg weak and protesting. He was the last to climb from the tunnel, and although Gordon was eagerly scouting for their next route, Jack was scrutinizing Sam's laborious efforts.

"Uh Sam, I don't mean to pry but you don't seem to be a hundred percent." He shone a light on Sam's face which drastically blanched his already pale skin. Sam nodded, but his leg betrayed him as he tried to put more weight on it. Jack was at his side and helped lower him to the ground.

"It's not so bad, really," and he motioned for Jack to look at his leg. "Was bitten by that rouge bat at the entrance of this tunnel." Jack inspected the bite wound beneath Sam's tattered pants. The skin was broken and bleeding but no signs of infection. It looked drastically different from every other time someone had been attacked in the past week.

It was a little baffling until Jack remembered that Sam was the antitoxin producer. His body was more than use to this poison by now. Then again, being bitten by any wild animal was no picnic, so it still sucked, just not as much as it had potential to. "Are you feeling all right?" He asked a little tentatively. There was always the chance that he was wrong and the poison was just taking longer to react.

"Yeah…mostly," and Sam was relieved to find truth in this statement after habitually blurting it out. "I mean, my leg's been pretty numb, has been this whole time, but it feels like its wearing off a bit now."

"So it's starting to hurt."

"Well…" It was a hard sensation to describe. "More like I'm aware of it. I wouldn't really call it painful." Dean would have understood what Sam meant, but Jack looked a little baffled by the vagueness. He was more of a straight forward guy - yes it hurts, right here, on a scale? Maybe a six out of ten. Sam and Dean had never worked that way, most of that information was relayed by brotherly intuition. In the end, it didn't really matter if Jack was able to comprehend what Sam was going through. All that matter was that his two partners knew he was managing and would be functional when the time called for it. Besides, now that the numbness was receding it seemed to be draining away rather quickly. Sam attributed this to the fact that they were no longer crawling on the ground and his leg had the opportunity to be stretched and stimulated so he could get the blood moving again.

"A ha," Gordon suddenly exclaimed from across the chamber. He wasn't in sight, but his voice echoed clearly from behind the wall of rock. "This is tight…" he was saying as his legs dropped into sight from some hidden crevice near the floor. "But I think, just maybe, I see some light at the top of this channel." He unfolded himself completely from the crack and cocked an eyebrow at Sam and Jack. "Everything okay?" He had obviously spotted the patch of scarlet on Sam's thigh.

"Fine, fine," Jack said as he pulled out some gauze and bandage material from his bag, "just a minor wound." He began to wrap the leg as Sam held the gauze in place. It absorbed the blood readily but remained unsaturated. It was obviously not going to be much of a worry in the short term.

In the meantime, he was much more interested in the light at the end of the tunnel, no pun intended. "Did you say there was light? Like sunlight??" Sam asked trying to be serious and hide his scepticism and, even further down, the glimmer of hope that had flared bright at the mention of something more than endless darkness.

"Not sunlight," Gordon replied. "Something else…"

"Maybe it was the beam from your flashlight?" Jack cut in and then chuckled at his own joke.

"Ha ha," Gordon responded dryly, "so hilarious, Jack."

Sam interjected, "isn't there something in the rock, like limestone, that gives off a luminescence?" He was trying to be helpful and not insinuate that Gordon just might be loosing his marbles. It can get to a person, spending too much time in dark confines under the earth. Even Sam couldn't deny the panic filled moments when he would give anything to claw back to the surface and get a breath of fresh air and sky.

"No, it was warm and moving."

"Warm and moving?" Jack was no longer able to contain his own doubts of his friend's sanity. "Gordon, seriously, what the hell are you talking about?" He might have gone on to actually tell Gordon he was loosing it if he hadn't be sharply hushed first. Gordon was beside the two of them in a heartbeat, crouched and on full alert.

Sam heard it too, a mobile scratching, crawling sound from the tunnel they had just exited. Gordon propped his gun on his shoulder and held his aim on the shadowed opening. Sam and Jack readied their weapons silently behind him.

As the sound drew nearer Gordon became more and more antsy and ended up firing a shot into the cavity, which only resounded with a echoing rumble. The creatures in the tunnel took that opportunity to charge into the room. Both Sam and Jack took shots at the exploding entrance but it was impossible to tell if they had met their marks. The room was suddenly filled with flapping, diving bat bodies. Gordon fell back against Jack as one bombed towards his face. Sam was on his feet and brought down the butt of his shotgun on Gordon's attacker. The thing was dazed enough that Gordon threw it to the side where Sam abruptly put a bullet through it. But there were plenty more. The next closest one was flapping at the back of Sam's head and he swung around, passed the scratching talons, to bludgeon it with his gun, and then another one, and then another.

The close quarters made firing the guns dangerous and all three of them were trying to be reserved with the bullets, making each shot direct and sure. Gordon was holding his shotgun like a steering wheel and swinging it from side to side, just trying to clear the air of flapping bodies. Jack had actually pulled his knife and was fighting close quarters with the things. After violently swatting another bat into the wall Sam had a clear view of the room and he let off four very effective rounds. The numbers were thinning and it didn't seem that more were coming.

Jack had just sliced clear through the wing of one of the larger ones and it was now flopping around the floor like a fish out of water, screaming like a wailing banshee. Sam resisted the urge to cover his ears and instead pulverized the little bastard with a close range bullet. It had been that undeniable call for help and Sam wondered how many more would come.

A dozen bodies lay on the ground, and as Jack viciously stabbed and twisted his knife into one last leathery form the room finally lay quiet. It was only then that they could hear the low roar of something much bigger echoing through the chamber.


	32. Chapter 32

THIRTYTWO

The walls reverberated with the resonance of something much larger and angrier than the bat pests they had currently been dealing with. "What the hell is that?" Gordon panted while he tried to catch his breath.

"My guess is that's Camazotz." Sam wiped away a smear a blood that was dribbling into his eye. He wasn't sure if the wounds were new or refreshed old ones, but he was sure he looked a mess, much like his two companions. "We must be close to headquarters if daddy came to the rescue."

Gordon nodded but didn't look all too pleased with the fact. "I hope that means we've killed all his cronies."

Sam couldn't have agreed more. He was so tired of frikin' flying, poisonous bats.

"I wondered if that light has something to do with a demon stronghold. You think? Maybe the bastard's just around the corner." Gordon glanced at Jack who was quietly catching his breath, crouched in the corner. "Hey Jack?" he said, just looking for a response to judge Jack's condition.

"Yeah…a stronghold...maybe."

"You okay, dude?"

"Fine, fine." He stood up to prove it, but was cradling his hand as he did so. It was massacred, red and pulpy and torn apart. "I just need a little help with this," he nodded toward the bloody mess.

"Geezus." Gordon pulled off his already tattered outer shirt, leaving him in just a tee, and went to Jack's side. He delicately took the butchered hand from Jack and wrapped it gently in the shirt. "Must hurt like a bitch."

"Yeah…" Jack mused and then looked up sheepishly at his companions. "Actually, I can't feel it at all."

Gordon closed his eyes as Jack said this as if he could will away the last statement. He sighed deep and intensely. "Well, that's just great, isn't it?" he muttered under his breath, "more bites to deal with." His voice volume rose with irritation. "Anyone else get bitten, while we're on the subject." His annoyance seemed a little unfair. Jack hadn't asked to get bitten and he knew better than anyone what that meant.

Obviously, Sam didn't feel the need to point out his leg wound, since it was no longer an issue, but he checked along his arms which were scratched and stinging and definitely not numb. He shook his head. "How about you?" he then asked Gordon and found he was unable to keep the accusatory tone out of his question.

Gordon sighed, getting the point at once. "Hey," he looked from Jack to Sam and then back again. "I'm sorry for freaking out but I am so sick of this hunt. Every time we turn around things seemed to be worse then they were and… crap, I just want to get out of this fucking cave."

Somewhere, beyond them, Camazotz roared again for his children. It sent shudders through Sam who was feeling the same as Gordon. He just wanted to be done with it all and get Dean and himself far from this cave and these woods.

Gordon sighed again, but this time it was tired and sad. He began to sloppily wrap Jack's hand in strips of cotton that were quickly consumed with blood. Layer after layer and the bandage started to look more like a boxing glove, but less bloody. "Good enough," Jack finally said. "Now we just need a tourniquet."

"Isn't that gonna cut off your blood circulation?"

"That's the point, so just make it tight okay?"

Gordon nodded uncertainly and tied another strip of cloth halfway up Jack's forearm. "That'll do." He winced as it was yanked tight. "Now, let's get moving. I hate to say it but time is no longer on our side." Gordon nodded and slung on his pack, then helped Jack with his.

Sam was itching to get moving and had ducked under the rock to get a look at the next challenge while Gordon did his first aiding. Jack was so very right that they would very quickly be running out of time, and it was not going to be easy getting back out of the cave as it were.

The next crevice was basically a vertical slice between two rock walls. It was only as wide as a person and went straight up for at least twenty feet. Sam turned off his flashlight and the crevice disappeared into the blackness. There was definitely no sign of light beyond the upper ledge. "Gordon." Sam pulled his head back into the roomy chamber. "Are you sure this goes somewhere?"

Gordon nodded. "I know you both think I'm cracking up but I swear that I saw something up there. If you want you guys can stay here and I'll check it out."

"No," Jack exclaimed almost before Gordon had finished talking. "I trust you, let's just get going somewhere, anywhere but here. He moved to the crevice, ducked down and under and was out of sight. Sam shrugged and dipped in behind Jack. Gordon shrugged too after his partners had left the chamber, even though it was only the bat carcasses that would have seen it, then followed Sam.

The shimmy up the chimney was easy enough. Jack seemed to be doing just fine with one hand and was moving quickly, with renewed urgency. He was obviously worried about the poison even with the tourniquet retarding the spread. Jack was at the top in no time and looked back at Sam and Gordon who were more tangled in the pipe with their gangly arms and legs. The flue opened wide onto a ledge and it seemed like a vast cavern spread beyond that.

Finally, Sam popped up beside him. Jack put a finger to his lips and flicked off his flashlight. Sam copied his precautionary stealth. Something was definitely moving in the cavern below them. They both inched down the ledge feeling for the edge as they went. A long way below them a fiery torch moved as if it were suspended in oblivion. It illuminated a small portion of the man carrying it, but not enough to see anything for certain. Puffing, angry grunts bounced off the cavern walls.

"Demon?" Jack was right beside Sam's ear and barely made a sound when he asked what they were both thinking. Sam nodded in accordance but realized Jack couldn't see that anyway. They both sat silently and watched the torch cross the cavern and then vanish gradually down a tall tunnel.

Gordon pulled himself onto the ledge just as the fire was fading away. He shone his light at the two figures crouching near the brink of a nasty fall. His beam caught one serious glare from Jack and he instantaneously switch the flashlight off. He crawled toward them and peered into the vast emptiness. "What," he hissed under his breath, "are we looking at?"

Jack shimmied backwards between the two of them and flicked on his own flashlight. "You aren't crazy, just damn lucky," he said to Gordon. "You have some blessed timing to be poking around that pipe the exact same time buddy was making his way though this cavern."

"Buddy as in Demon King of the Bats?"

"Most likely," Sam chimed in, "unless there's some mole people living down here."

"Or Gollum!" Jack added.

"Or dwarves!"

Gordon groaned. "Alright, I get it… you're both geeks, good for you."

Jack chuckled and Sam smiled despite himself. But the light moment was all too brief as Camazotz raged somewhere not too far away. "Now," Gordon continued, "let's hope we have enough rope to repel down there."


	33. Chapter 33

THIRTYTHREE

It was dark, still. God he was so sick of the dark. He was even more sick of coming out of some induced unconsciousness to find he was still in the freakin' dark. And things felt worse this time. He throat felt raw and sore with every expiration and his whole body was really beginning to ache from his trussed up position, not to mention his poor mutilated arm. He resisted a hoarse hack because he knew it was going to feel horrible in his throat. Well, at least the demon hadn't crushed him completely - he had been worried about that - or even worse, eaten some part of him he would undoubtedly miss, and Dean was sure he would undoubtedly miss anything Camazotz could rip from him. Speaking of, where the devil had the bastard gone off to anyway? It seemed awfully quiet. He turned his head to look for Darrin but without the glow of the fire it was pointless.

"Darrin?" he wheezed out and only hoped it was loud enough for him to hear. There was no answer from his companion, if his companion was even still there. Well, there was no point waiting around for ye old demon to return. Besides, Dean had things to do; check on Darrin, find Sam, exorcise one bad ass batman, return to the world of sky and sun, suck back a cold one, get laid.

He pulled at the binds around his wrists. They were thin and strong, but had some stretch to them. Sinew? he wondered. Human? and he shuddered. Well, at least it gave him something to work with. He pulled his hands apart a fraction of a centimetre, stretching the rope between them. The outsides of the binds cut easily into his flesh and he had to bite his bottom lip to maintain the painful pressure. Eventually, he released the stress hoping the sinew would feel a little looser; it did, a little. He repeated the stretching process over and over. Each time gaining a little more give to the binds. Each gain equalled a deeper slit into his wrists. In time he was able to pull and twist his hand in such a way that he managed to free it without too much more self-inflicted damage. His other hand followed easily. They were both slick with blood from the messy cuts. This made it hard to untie his feet, but the knife tucked in his boot helped with that. He took his time inching off the slab. Hours in a position like that can really lock up ones muscles.

"Darrin?" he whispered again as he put his feet to the ground, feeling a slight tenderness in his ankle. Man, he needed a vacation. He knew Darrin's slab wasn't far, maybe a couple of feet, so he took several cautious steps through the dark with hands low and outstretched. His left foot was the first to kick the rock table. He knelt beside it and, after wiping his bloody hands on his pants, he felt the along the surface, praying he wouldn't find some severed arm or leg. He touched something - a knee. He squeezed it, "Darrin?" There was no response to his queries and Dean was beginning to think he was more likely talking to a corpse. That was not cool and it was one of those deaths that would weigh heavy on him. If he had stayed behind Darrin would have too, and they wouldn't be here, and… Dean heard a breath from the head of the slab. It was shallow and weak and few and far between, but it was there.

He slid his hands down to Darrin's feet and cut the sinews, then manoeuvred along the slab to where his hands were bound and cut them free as well. Darrin let out a muted groan as the strain on his body was finally relieved. At that point he faltered. Without knowing what injuries Darrin had sustained how could he even begin to help him. "Damn, we really need some light." He felt his own pockets wishing he had his lighter on him. They hadn't been planning on any salting and burning so the lighter had been left behind. He wiped the blood from his hands again, wondering if maybe his fellow hunter had something on him. He felt around Darrin`s hips. "Sorry, dude. Normally I'm not this intimate, but it could be worse." His voice scratched at his sore throat and he wasn't able to speak above a whisper, but it made him feel a little less alone. "You know, you could be awake for all this, and then afterwards there'd be all these awkward silent moments, you wondering if it meant something, me wondering what the hell I was thinking… hey! A knife and a lighter. Nice stash, man."

Another wiping of his hands and he flicked the lighter. It blazed immediately into a brilliant spot of light. It didn't cast far but it gave Dean more than enough sights of Darrin's torn body. "Oh crap." He took in the chest scratches which were deep but not life threatening, and then the hole in his side which definitely was. "No wonder you didn't feel like talking." Darrin's face was white, even under the warm glow of the mini flame. Dean knew, first and foremost, that something had to be done with the hole, mostly because he could see intestine poking out.

But first he needed to stop his bleeding wrists. He figured with all these bodies around there had to be something to use as a bandage. He used the lighter to find his way to the next slab beyond Darrin. There was a body, sure enough, which was mostly recognizable except for the fact that it was missing all anatomical parts below the chest. The guy was wearing some tacky Hawaiian shirt and Dean cut wide strips from the tattered remains. He wrapped several layers and then tied them around his wrists as best he could. The gash on his arm had mostly scabbed over and for the meantime could be ignored.

As he fumbled his way back to Darrin something at the edge of the light caught his eye. He moved beyond the heads of the slabs and came upon a pile of satchels, canteens, full day packs, full week packs! It was like stumbling upon a mountain of gold. Dean's jaw dropped in wonderment and relief. He pulled the largest pack from the bottom of the pile. He had to put the lighter away so he could rifle through the bag, but its contents were easily recognized by touch. In the third outside compartment he found a decent sized flashlight and with this is hand, dragged the pack back to Darrin's side

He quickly sorted the contents into useful or not, looking specifically for bits and pieces of materials that would make good bandages. After collecting a couple of relatively clean t-shirts and a roll of duct tape, duct tape? Oh well, Dean wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he returned briefly to the pile of things and grabbed a couple of mostly full canteens. Outdoorsy people sure drag a lot of things into the woods with them. Again, another blessing Dean wasn't willing to question too deeply.

Back at Darrin's side he moistened one of the folded shirts and used it to guide the protruding intestine back into its body, then pressed the wet material to the wound. He grabbed the duct tape, put a dry shirt over top the wet one, and then managed to tape the makeshift bandage around his abdomen.

With all the poking and prodding Darrin's breathing had increased and every now and then his lips uttered a pitiful moan. "Sorry dude," and Dean pressed another pad of material over the worst of his chest wounds. Darrin sucked in a sharp breath this time. This bandage covered most of his chest and was taped in place too and that was all that could be done for now.

Darrin's abdominal muscles were contracting in small spasms now that he was coming around and, before Dean could move away, he rolled onto his side and spewed his stomach contents across the rocky slab. Coughing and sputtering he managed to croak out a sorry, which threw Dean a bit.

"S'ok, man. No worries," he chuckled despite himself, "you missed anyway." It was something Sam would worry about and Dean suddenly had a pang of longing for his brother. What the hell was taking them so long to get to the end of the maze, anyway? They had enough of a head start that they should've been here by now, unless… Well, unless they met some trouble. Crap, now Dean was going to be preoccupied with images of Sam being torn to shreds by evil bat demon guy.

Darrin had recovered from his puking and was laying curled on his side, gasping sporadically through pain-filled spasms. Peering at Dean, grimacing whenever one of the contractions overwhelmed him, his brows furrowed as he tried to get out a question. "Now what?" he eventually managed to choke out.

This was the very question Dean had no answer for, at least not yet. It was inevitable that Camazotz would be returning and it could be at any time. First they had to move somewhere safer, somewhere hidden. Dean shone his light around the cave, searching for any sort of split in the rock where he could hide his injured comrade.

Darrin was trying to say something again. "We need…" He shuddered through a guttural spasms. "We need some way to trap him… until we can complete the exorcism."

When Darrin had asked 'now what?' Dean figured it meant 'how the hell do we get out of here alive.' He had no intention of involving Darrin in a demonic melee and wasn't even sure if that was priority anymore. "I'm not sure we are physically up to dealing with this guy." He really meant to say you instead of we but thought that might seem a little harsh, even if it was the truth. Other than the fact that Dean was rapidly loosing his voice and that somewhere, deep down, his body was trying to conceal all his exhaustion, he still felt like he was up to the challenge, more so if Sam would just show up.

"I don't think he have - much of a choice. - We don't know which way is out - and even if we did - how long it would take - and that demon could be back - any second - and then we're dead. - I think we need a plan." Darrin winced his way through his desperate rant. "Maybe you should go - look for the other three. I don't know - how much more I have in me."

Before Dean could so much as think of a reply one of the tunnels funnelled the heavy footfalls of the demon down to them. They had to move, now. Whatever plan they intended to execute would have to wait; they were out of time.


	34. Chapter 34

THIRTYFOUR

When Camazotz stalked back into his chamber he found his two freshest meals had vanished. He swiped a couple fingers through the blood that had pooled on one of the slabs and smeared it on his tongue. It wasn't a huge lost, they had tasted funny anyway, like he was eating his own. And it wasn't that this particular demon had much capacity for conniving or worrying, but the fact that he had been unable to find his screeching servants did leave him a bit baffled. No matter, he would just make more, later. Right now he was hungry and there was plenty of morsels laying about to satisfy him.

Dean watched the demon light a new torch and then amble from slab to slab, picking at bits and pieces of human as he went. Somehow he had managed to crutch Darrin towards an alcove behind the pile of hiker belongings. It made for excellent coverage and gave Dean more time to figure out their next move. On the hike up he had learned that Darrin had memorized a couple of exorcisms, something which Dean had never bothered to do. This would have been a great asset had Darrin remained uninjured and able. As for trapping the bugger… they hadn't had time to draw any traps and without their own satchels they were limited in equipment.

In the fiery glow Dean glanced back at his partner who was trying to keep as quiet as possible as he recovered from the jostling move. As his chest rose and fell with each guarded breathe a flash of silver caught the light. Dean motioned towards the piece which hung around his neck. Darrin looked baffled but clumsily tugged at the chain. It eventually revealed a silver cross that gravity had pulled around to the back of his neck. Now that gave Dean an idea.

He glanced at the demon who was further from them now and munching on what looked to be a leg in the flickering light. He turned back to Darrin. "Is this legit?" he whispered. It wasn't that he placed Darrin as the sentimental religious type who would wear something just for show but with this demon they needed one blessed piece of hardware, not some insubstantial trinket. Darrin just quietly huffed and nodded, then began to fiddle with the clasp. His hands were shaking and uncoordinated and it seemed to take him forever to remove the necklace. In the meantime, Dean quietly found a couple more canteens and water bottles and lined them up at his side.

"You need to teach me an exorcism," he rasped under his breath. He throat was beginning to feel uncomfortably thick and each word tore at the swelling tissue as it made its way out.

Darrin shook his head and gestured at his own throat. "You need to stop talking or - you're going to cause too much swelling - airway could become tight." Even though he was whispering his voice still had the potential for a louder volume, something Dean was no longer able to summon.

It was an unfortunate fact that Dean didn't want to face, but he knew it to be true. Darrin was pushing a bottle of water at him. "It's cool - will help with the swelling."

Taking it would mean defeat. He would deal with the swelling and whatever other problems occurred once big, bad, and batty was back in hell. "I'll be fine." The phrase ground out from his vocal cords and, other than how it sounded, he wondered if Darrin could tell how much it hurt. Probably not; good.

It didn't matter though, Darrin was not convinced and he pushed himself up from his reclined position to force the water at Dean. He hid a groan as his body protested the movement. "I'll do the exorcism," he said, trying to sound capable and convincing. "If we can trap him - I'll do it."

Dean was glad his back was to the light as it masked his facial expression. Darrin was probably unable to see the flickers of annoyance and pig-headedness and contemplation that he was struggling through. On the one hand, he didn't want to admit that he wouldn't be able to do the exorcism. On the other hand, they didn't really have much choice and if Dean was going to be stubborn about it things had a higher potential of going wrong. Why push that threshold when the plan was already sketchy? That being said, was Darrin any more up to it than he was? In the end he was just going to have to place his faith in his current partner. He reluctantly resigned and indicated so by accepting the water and soothing his throat with a cool sip.

Their light was dwindling as Camazotz moved further away. In the shadows Dean began to immerse the silver cross into each bottle for several minutes to ensure its consecration. He wasn't sure how effective his plan was going to be, but Darrin said he only needed a couple minutes to get through the exorcism. No problem, right?

"What are you going to do?" Darrin asked as he huffed and puffed and watched Dean at work.

"Holy water net," Dean replied, trying to keep the words he used to a minimum.

A look of complete mystification overtook Darrin's face and nobody could have blamed him.

Dean grinned to himself in the dark and felt a little astounded by his cunning. "You'll see," he whispered.

He placed the cross in yet around canteen and then poked his head over the pile of bags to check on the demon. It was probing around one of the shafts quite a ways away. They were almost in complete darkness at their end. Dean slunk around to the exposed side of the pile and pulled on a cargo net decorated in fake leaves that he had spotted earlier. It looked like some sort of camouflage device that a hunter might use as cover. Dean had other ideas.

He crept back to Darrin's side and dumped the tangle of netting on the ground. He started pouring the sanctified water on the mesh so it could saturate the rope.

"Dean…" his partner was shaking his head incredulously. "If you're gonna do - what I think you're gonna do." he panted, "- well I don't know if that's such a good idea."

Dean shrugged and continued with his task. "No choice," he muttered, knowing this point was inarguable. And he was right, Darrin had no retort and instead lay back and tried to relax his seizing abdomen.

It didn't matter if Dean's idea was half-baked or not they were both going to die anyway, Darrin thought. He pushed back another wave of nausea. Well, at least it wouldn't be tied down like a baby calf, kicking and screaming as they were ripped apart. Maybe it would be worse, he mused. Either way it was going to suck. An angry demon was not a pleasant thing to deal with and what they were about to do was definitely going to make him furious.

The light was making its way back to them from across the cavern. The demon was moving deliberately in their direction now, nose in the air, grunting curiously. Darrin's heart jumped into his throat and he nudged Dean, who had his back to the beast. "I think it knows we're here."

Dean glanced over his shoulder and sure enough the demon was stalking towards them, eyes beady and sharp under the flickering flame.


	35. Chapter 35

THIRTYFIVE

The whole concept of a surprise attack was a lost cause now. "I don't think he can see us completely yet." Darrin's voice was barely audible as the two hunters remained statue still, watching the demon lumber towards them. "You need to be behind him…"

Dean was wordlessly nodding, their plan had funnelled down to this one scenario and they both knew it. He rose from his knees into a crouch and passed Darrin the one remaining bottle of holy water. It wasn't much but maybe it would hold Camazotz back until Dean could get around behind him. He bundled up the net, which was double the weight now that it was soaking wet, gave Darrin's shoulder a brief pat, and then worked his way around the back of the pile which was almost pressed against the cavern wall.

As the demon grew closer Darrin could feel himself becoming bathed in the fiery glow and he no longer wondered how well he could be seen. He pushed himself back against the heap of backpacks and considered, for the second time today, if death would be easier if he didn't see it coming. Once the demon was within a couple feet it paused to suck in his scent. It glanced from the two empty slabs back at Darrin and its lips curled up into an angry snarl. It was at that point that he knew the demon recognized him as his runaway dinner.

Darrin pulled his larger blade and readied the water bottle in his other hand as the demon made a deliberate go towards him. With an annoyed swipe he knocked a couple of packs from his path as he forced his way down to Darrin. They had wedged themselves in a cavity between the mound and the rock and it was definitely holding the demon at bay. However, one of the walls of the stronghold was very moveable and it wasn't going to take him that long to push all that stuff aside.

The demon clawed his way down, widening the opening for his larger form. When he was able to rake the air just above Darrin's foot he received a sloppy splash of holy water which sent him recoiling in shock and pain. He let out a screeching roar and took a step back from the nook. Darrin wasn't sure if it was more angry or shocked to discover that this measly creature could cause it harm. Not that it mattered. Either way the demon dove back towards the recess with renewed vigour and this time was able to reach far enough in to wrap his clawed hand around Darrin's ankle in a crushing grip.

Without any more room to move backwards he had no choice but to utilize the rest of the water. He poured in on the gnarled hand and in a flurry of steam the demon let go and roared again, this time with obvious rage. He brandished his knife, ready for the next attack, and tried to tuck his legs in. The twisting and folding upset his abdominal wound and it tightened up with a agonizing cramp. Nausea rolled through him; maybe he could puke on the bastard. Where was Dean?

By the third round the demon had changed strategies and he grabbed at the rocky ledge over Darrin's head and began to claw and pound away at the stone. The overhang groaned as the full weight of the rocks began to strain the junction. It was going to be damn near impossible to recite an exorcism if he was crushed to death first. Darrin looked for a way to skitter out from the alcove but the way Dean had escaped through had shifted closed.

Just as Darrin was truly beginning to worry, Dean finally found himself behind the distracted demon - perfect. Well, it was now or never, time to prove his worth. With one side of the net weighted he swung it once, twice, then let it fly up and over the head of the beast. It was beautiful, couldn't have been more precise. And the holy water? Well, upon impact the demon lurched back in a torrent of shrieking and flailing. Steam rose from his skin wherever the net touched him and daunted the flickering flame which had been discard on the ground. Dean dashed around the demon as it turned in circles looking for reason and blame, all the while roaring and tearing at the tangle of rope.

As Dean narrowly avoided the wildly swiping claws he could hear the beginning of the exorcism from behind the mound of packs. It was strained and wavering, but loud and clear too.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica, in nomine et virtute Domini Nostri Jesu Christi, eradicare et effugare a Dei Ecclesia, ab animabus ad imaginem Dei conditis ac pretioso divini Agni sanguine redemptis."

As Darrin finished the first phrase the demon grasped his head and several different tones of screams, roars, and howls emitted from his throat. It was the worst sound Dean had ever heard; ear splitting and bone shaking and eerie as hell. He covered his ears as the sound reverberated off the walls and filled the cavern.

A couple of the sounds died off as Camazotz tried to regain his composure. He swung his head around searching for the source of his pain. His beady eyes met Dean's in the illumination of the dropped torch. Despite the continuing exorcism he lunged for the trifling man.

"Imperat tibi Deus altissimus, cui in magna tua superbia te similem haberi adhuc præsumis; qui omnes homines vult salvos fieri et ad agnitionem veritaris venire."

But Dean was on his game and he rolled out of the way, sprung to his feet, and was behind the demon grasping the trailing net. The meshwork was ensnared over the demon's head and he was able to use it to scale its back. He avoided the clutching claws from both sides and finally was able to grip the net on each side of the demon's neck, pulling it tight across his throat. With a hiss of renewed steam the howling increased and drowned out Darrin's recitation. Dean was bounced around mercilessly as Camazotz desperately tried to rid himself of the pest. In a last ditch effort the demon reached for his tormentor from overtop his head. His claws easily grasped Dean this way and they dug deep into his shoulders as they clamped down on their target. The room began to glow red.

"Imperat tibi excelsa Dei Genitrix Virgo Maria, quæ superbissimum caput tuum a primo instanti immaculatæ suæ conceptionis in sua humilitate contrivit. Imperat tibi fides sanctorum Apostolorum Petri et Pauli, et ceterorum Apostolorum."

Dean was ripped from his perch and slammed down on the ground in front of the demon in a motion that was so fast he had barely seen it coming. The wind was knocked from his lungs and his body was in shock from the impact. He had seconds to gain his breath back as Camazotz tore the burning net away. Finally free from the restraint his full demonic anger was able to erupt. Obviously he was a lesser demon, a gatekeeper, a guard, but he was now no less formidable than any other of hell's creatures. He placed his foot on Dean's chest pushing the air he had just recovered out again. Gasping for oxygen, somewhere beyond the demon and the exorcism, he could have sworn he heard his name. It sounded like … Sam? But Camazotz had grown weary of the games and in one final manoeuvre he plucked Dean from the ground and chucked him at the wall only a couple of feet away. His head was no match for the unrelenting rock and he was unconscious before his body had time to crumple to the ground.


	36. Chapter 36

THIRTYSIX

It took the three hunters much too long to organize themselves for what looked like a simple operation. The arguing had commenced when it became apparent that their rope was going to come up short, just barely Gordon guessed, by about ten feet. However their only other option of turning back was a dismal one. Eventually, their one and only rope was fastened to a protruding boulder ready for the descent. Gordon insisted that the ropeless section was going to be no problem. They would just drop the remaining distance; it wasn't that far. However, Sam had a feeling that it would seem a lot further once he was dangling at the end of the line.

Jack went first, with his numb wounded hand. He curled his legs and good arm around the dangling rope and swung out from the alcove. He hung a moment in front of them, suspended in the blackness, and then loosened his grip and slipped slowly down the line.

"Let us know how the drop is?" Gordon called after his disappearing form. Soon he was no more than a tiny speck of light. The hunters left at the top watched anxiously as the light descended away from them. It began to slow when he was about a hundred meters down. That made sense; it was a hundred meter lead. After a brief paused the light rapidly dropped away and then stopped abruptly. At the same time the cavern rang with a muffled thud and yelp.

"I think he found the bottom," Gordon said to Sam and then turned to yell down to Jack. "Hey! Are you ok?"

It took a heartbeat but Jack found his tongue and yelled a vague, echoing response back up to them. If nothing else, it sounded pained.

"How long before he starts getting really sick?" Gordon asked Sam as he pulled the rope in and twisted it once around his leg.

"About an hour, hopefully more with that tourniquet in place."

Gordon nodded grimly then gave Sam a curt salute and dropped quickly down the rope. He went much faster then Jack had and in a couple of seconds he was paused at the end of the line. Seconds after he let go the same thud that Jack had made resonated through the cave. A moment later Gordon yelled an 'all's clear,' back up to Sam.

Okay, Sam thought, here goes nothing. He followed Gordon's example and looped the rope once around his leg, then swung out from the bay. After testing his grip and slipping a couple feet for practice he controlled the remainder of his descent until he felt the rope's end. He took a deep breath and let go. The landing was jarring and, with his sore leg, not very pleasant. He toppled sideways as his bad leg gave way, and despite his efforts let out a grunt as he hit the ground.

Gordon came over and helped haul him up. "Ok?" he asked.

"Yeah…" he answered not bothering to hide his displeasure. "A little more than ten feet, don't ya think?" His leg shook under the stress of standing but Sam was able to maintain his balance regardless. He brushed a layer of dust from his thighs as he tried to hide his wavering stance.

Gordon shrugged, the same way Dean would have, and was already heading towards the next passage. "Yeah I guess so, but we're all here and okay, right?"

"Relatively," Jack murmured to Sam and shifted his pack to the other shoulder.

Sam walked along side Jack as they followed Camazotz's path. "How are you making out?" He avoided shinning his light directly at Jack but in the periphery of the beam could see the beads of sweat popping out from the dirt on his brow.

Jack didn't bother responding and just shrugged, then returned the question to his limping comrade. "How about you?"

Sam shrugged as well. Shrugging was starting to feel like the common response in the cave. Mainly because it indicated that the situation was not good but would have to be endured. "I just want to get out of this cave."

Jack nodded silently and then quickened their pace to catch up with Gordon.

They were about halfway down the passage when the first demonic scream filled their ears. "What the hell is that?" Jack asked above the reverberating walls.

"Someone sounds angry."

"Do you think he's mad that all his little bat buddies are dead?"

"One can only hope that's true," Sam muttered, trying to shake the feeling that there was something more behind the roars. It wasn't long before his worries were confirmed. They had only gone a little way further when the screams turned into a multi-toned howl of pain and rage.

Despite his sore leg he began jogging down the pass. Guided by instinct alone, he ignored Jack and Gordon's questions, and continued to move towards the supernatural sounds. When he rounded a bend the glow of the torch was once again visible and he picked up his pace, overwhelmed with a sense of dread. He was vaguely aware of the pounding of his companions' feet behind him and was more intent on the voice he could now hear mixed in with the screeching demon. It sounded like Latin?… Dean?

He rounded one final corner and skidded to a halt, trying to comprehend the chaos in the dark. The torch lay on the ground of a large cavern only a couple of feet from a large, flailing, monstrous form. It was undeniable that an exorcism was being shouted at the demon, but it wasn't Dean.

Gordon and Jack were shortly behind him and they too paused to take in the scene. It was Jack who spurred them into action. "crap, that's Darrin!" He spun Gordon around and tore into his bag. "We need to light the flares! Now!" He grabbed the sticks from the pack, shoved a couple at Sam and Gordon, and began lighting one as he tore across the cavern.

"Dammit Jack." Gordon took off after him.

As the flare began to glow brighter and brighter in Jack's good hand Sam was able to see the demon, as well as the rest of the cavern, more clearly. Something was hanging from the demon's back as it violently twisted back and forth. The thing finally reached over its head and plucked the form from its back. In the second that the body was suspended over the demon's head Sam knew it to be Dean.

His heart lurched into his throat as Dean was slammed, WWF style, to the ground. His feet were off and running before his mind could even conceive the action. "Dean!" he yelled as he raced across the irregular surface, tripping and stumbling all the way. The demon was picking up his brother's limp form now; he was not going to make it in time. "Dean. No!" The demon flung him, like a rag doll, into the wall. He helplessly watched his brother collapse in a heap.

The demon spun around, horrifically exposed by the amber flare, and maliciously glared at the three approaching hunters. They were only about half way across the vast cavern and posed little threat to Camazotz at this point. He would deal with them once free of the burning, cursed words.

"Ergo, draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica, adjuramus te per Deum vivum, per Deum verum, per Deum sanctum."

Instead, he turned towards the source of the exorcism.


	37. Chapter 37

THIRTYSEVEN

Darrin was trying desperately not to forget a line of the exorcism, while keeping the nausea at bay, when the cavern was filled with an inexplicable red glow. Without breaking from his recitation he hauled himself up using the pile of belongings on his right. His words became more laboured, as did his breathing, but he continued not wanting Dean's efforts to be in vain. As he rose over the stack he could finally see the scuffle taking place between demon and man. Of course the radiating light helped with that; the flare was making its way across the cavern, illuminating its carrier as it came. Darrin wasn't surprised to see the other three hunters, just filled with overwhelming relief. It gave his words strength.

"Imperat tibi excelsa Dei Genitrix Virgo Maria, quæ superbissimum caput tuum a primo instanti immaculatæ suæ conceptionis in sua humilitate contrivit. Imperat tibi fides sanctorum Apostolorum Petri et Pauli, et ceterorum Apostolorum."

Maybe things would turn in their favour. Or not… Camazotz finally manage to wrench Dean from his back and then, with a howl of fury pitched him into the rock face. Darrin's voice faltered as he watched Dean loose his battle. crap. In another minute the exorcism would have been complete. As much as he wanted to rush to his fallen comrades side it would do them no good if the demon was still around. He had to finish.

If the other three could only distract it… and for a second it looked as if the demon was about to take them on. But it changed its mind and whirled around to face Darrin instead.

"Cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque æternæ perditionìs venenum propinare: desine Ecclesiæ nocere, et ejus libertati laqueos insincere," he continued as he backed away, back into the recessed haven.

The demon was barking angry, aggrieved staccatos that rung through Darrin's head as it approached, muting all other sounds, even his own voice. He closed his eyes and turned his head as the monster took a swipe at his face, just barely missing.

Across the cavern Jack had stopped and yanked his own satchel from his back. He began furiously digging through it with one hand as he held his bitten hand close to his chest. Gordon skidding to a stop beside him.

"Keep that thing off Darrin!" He shouted and shoved Gordon onwards.

Although a little baffled, Gordon didn't hesitate and readied his shotgun as he raced towards the demon. It was frantically tearing away at a stack of discarded backpacks, screaming as the exorcism continued from somewhere underneath its towering form. As he drew closer he slowed slightly, taken aback by the slabs of carcasses - nasty.

Sam, too, sprinted passed Jack, who was now flipping madly through a small leather bound book. His only target was his fallen brother, all other thoughts currently chased from his mind. Not that he wished any harm to come to the other hunters but a little part of him prayed that they would keep Camazotz distracted until he could get Dean out of harm's way. He lit the flare he was carrying and threw it forward to extinguish more of the dark and free his hands.

He was almost on top of Gordon's heels when the other man decelerate to a jog, then stopped all together. He cautiously came up beside Gordon wondering what had made him hesitate. As he drew even with the other hunter he saw the rows of mutilated bodies - geezus. Besides the grotesque exhibition that lay before them, it became obvious that Sam was not going to get passed the livid demon to offer any help to his brother. He prayed that Dean was at least breathing, but there was no way to tell for sure, not from where they stood.

"Fucker," Gordon hissed and levelled his shotgun towards the demon. He let off a round which connected with the demon's shoulder.

It turned and let out a vicious, screeching wail before turning back to Darrin. In the now lighted corner of the cavern it spotted a pile of small boulders to its right and snatched up one of the larger ones.

"Ecclesiæ uni, sanctæ, catholicæ, et apostolicæ, quam Christus ipse acquisivit sanguine suo." He was so close to finishing… Darrin flinched as he saw a watermelon sized boulder lofted above Camazotz's head. He only had seconds to shield his head before the rock came smashing down upon him.

Gordon let off another shot but it didn't prevent the demon's critical blow. "Darrin" he whispered as the cave lay silent, void of screeching, roaring, and Darrin's voice. However, the demon wasn't going to pause for its victory and it wheeled around to face the last remaining hunters.

"Jack," Gordon called, maintaining his sights on the demon. "We're in some trouble here. What the hell are you doing?"

"I found the exorcism," he answered as he scurried up behind them, looking haggard and pale. "Keep him busy, I'll finish it."

"I don't think it's that simple." Sam eyed the scene of Darrin and Dean's sabotage and spotted the net, discarded at Camazotz's feet. "We have to trap it or weaken it, otherwise it'll just take us out." He wondered how the net had been rigged up to debilitate the demon. If only they could get their hands on it, it had obviously been working for Dean.

"I don't think there's time for that." Gordon took a step backwards as the demon stalked towards them. "Just keep the exorcism going, Jack. And stay out of the way."

Jack began exactly where Darrin had left off, feeling a little ashamed that he hadn't memorize it after all these years. He pushed the burning sensation in his hand from his mind and began to read. "Humiliare sub potenti manu Dei; contremisce et effuge.'" Camazotz growled at the trio and bounded forward, closing the distance between them by half. It was not the type of sound that came from a demon being exorcised. Something in the ritual had been broken.

"That doesn't sound like it's bothering him anymore," Gordon said nervously and took another step backwards, reloading his shotgun as he went.

Sam shook his head at Gordon, knowing that firing at the demon would just encourage his anger. He glanced behind them, intending to find them some cover, but they were in the middle of the chamber and the blood covered slabs would not provide much protection. Instead, a deep blackness immediately to their left caught his attention. He shuffled warily passed Gordon and then a couple meters further left until he was standing near the brink of what appeared to be a profound chasm.

Gordon glanced nervously at Sam, who had just kicked a loose stone into the pit. Beyond the demon's irritated huffs the stone could be heard bouncing off the walls of the pit, gradually fading away to silence.

Camazotz snarled as Sam kicked a larger stone into the trench. This one's echoing bounce lasted for longer but eventually faded away as well. The boys turned to look at each other as the demon took another leap towards them, landing only feet away.

"Give me the book," Sam insisted and reached for the leathery text, eyes flickering between the demon and his brother's fallen form. He was going to end this one way or another so he could get to Dean.

Jack passed it wordless to Sam, hoping he would be more useful with it. The demon breathed heavily down upon them, its breath putrid with decay. Sam looked at the end of the exorcism and committed one of the lines to memory. He didn't need it to work, just to provoke it a little. "Gordon," he muttered, "you need to shoot it and then get the hell out of the way, both of you."

"I don't think…" Gordon began, but stopped when Camazotz stretched to his full height and emitted a deafening scream.

" Now! Do it now," Sam roared above the noise.

In the intensity of the moment Gordon became instinctual and let off a blast directly into the demon's chest. As Camazotz stumbled backwards Gordon dove sideways into Jack, knocking them both to the ground.

Sam stared directly into the blazing eyes of the demon and yelled, "Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine." Camazotz recoiled and then, with lightening quickness, sprung towards Sam. He tried to duck out of the way as the monstrous form launched towards him, but it was too quick. Sam was caught in the tumbling form of the beast as it tried to stop before the edge of the chasm. As he had suspected, its momentum was too great and despite its desperately grasping claws it plunged headlong into the pit, dragging Sam with it.


	38. Chapter 38

THIRTYEIGHT

The glow of the flares was fading as the cavern now lay unnaturally quiet. Gordon rolled off of Jack and looked back to where Sam had stood only moments ago. "crap." He scampered on his hands and knees over to the perimeter of the pit and peered into its swallowing shadows. Without warning a burst of flames erupted from the abyss, too far away to give off any warmth, and then was extinguished just as quickly.

"What the hell?"

"Exactly," Jack said as he crawled up beside Gordon, pale and clammy, his hand on fire with an indescribable intensity. He peered down into the pit as well. "Sam," he yelled and shone his flashlight into the endless blackness.

"If this pit has a bottom it's miles down. I don't think Sam…"

"It's hell," Jack interrupted him.

Gordon shook his head confused and overwhelmed by the last couple of minutes. "What?"

"Or at least the gateway to hell. Doesn't that make sense? Camazotz - guardian of the gate, belching fire, bottomless blackness…?"

"So, you're saying we just let Sam fall into hell." Gordon laced the statement with a pinch of sarcasm as he refused to believe something so horrific could have happened. "That's a load of blarney." He lit another flare defiantly and pointed it into the chasm. The glow chased away the first length of darkness and, about two storeys down on a narrow ledge, there lay a motionless humanoid form.

"Sam!" Jack called more urgently and the form shifted slightly and groaned. "Don't move, we're coming down to get you."

He could hear the voices but was having trouble discerning them through the fuzz that filled his head. Pressing his palm against the source of the most intense hammering he found a sticky mess intertwined in his hair. He must have hit his head but he couldn't quite remember what he had just been doing. If he could just have a couple minutes to reconsider things… but the voices above him were worried and insistent.

"M' fine," he choked out, trying to shake some sense back into the situation. He laboriously shifted himself onto his side and, with great effort, opened his eyes to find himself on the edge of a rocky, glowing chasm. In a heartbeat it all flooded back to him - the cave, the bats, the demon, Dean! He pushed himself up despite the pain pounding through his body. "Dean…" He looked up the wall of the chasm and was disappointed to find only Gordon and Jack peering down at him.

"Are you okay?" Gordon was asking, but Sam had more important things on his mind.

"How's Dean?" he shouted up to them and then winced deeply as the effort turned on sparks of pain throughout his head.

"We don't know yet," Gordon admitted, "haven't had time to check."

"I need to know if he's ok," Sam huffed in despair, just barely audible for the Jack and Gordon to hear him.

Gordon motioned towards the back of the cavern, "one of us needs to check on the other two."

Jack just nodded and got to his feet, wordlessly volunteering for the task.

Gordon looked back down at Sam. "Jack's checking him," he relayed into the pit.

Sam lay back and clutched his head. If Dean was - Sam shuddered - gone, then he didn't want to be rescued. He would just rolled off this ledge and that would be that. He should have tried harder to get to him, but he had failed, been too late. Despite himself a tear leaked from the corner of his eye, tracing a path through the grime on his cheek.

Jack hurried passed the sacrificial slabs and towards Dean and Darrin. He glanced behind the mound of backpacks but couldn't even see Darrin's body. The seconds he spent checking on Dean wouldn't compromise Darrin at this point. A lump formed in his throat as his mind danced over all the rotten scenarios he might come across. He closed his eyes and shot off a random prayer as he approached Dean.

The flare Sam had thrown into this corner was nearly out and Jack lit the second last one. The red luminosity enhanced the color of the blood which had pooled under Dean's head. Jack cringed and dropped to his knees beside the body. He rolled Dean onto his back as he meticulously supported his head, deeply concerned that the impact had damaged his spine. They would have to keep that in mind when they moved him. Dammit, how the hell were they going to get out of here. Jack took a deep breath, first things first.

Once on his back Dean's breathing became more obvious and Jack let out a sigh of relief. It was shallow and wheezy, but seemed to be regular enough despite that. "He's breathing," he relayed back to Gordon and Sam, then surveyed the rest of Dean's body. "Man, you're more of a mess than when we first met." He was almost covered head to toe in blood, though most of seemed dried and older. The fresh bleeding was only oozing now from a gash across his forehead and temple. Not dead, Jack thought, not dying, well not yet anyway, and stable for the moment. "I'll be right back," he told the unconscious hunter and then made his way over several scattered bags and satchels towards Darrin.

"Dare?" he called as he clambered over the toppled pile. "You better not be dead," he warned. "I already went through that this week." Finally, he came upon another bloodied body. "Geezus Christ, you're a mess too." He inched in to Darrin's side and checked for a pulse and breathing on him as well. Again, shallow, weak, but present. "Ok, bud, I'll be right back, I promise." He patted Darrin's thigh and crawled back over the packs.

"Jack? Is everyone okay?"

"For now, but they both need…" He closed his eyes as a moment of light-headedness overwhelmed him then continued. "They need attention without too much delay

"Alright," Gordon yelled again, "let's get moving then." That was easy for him to say, he didn't feel like crap. "Hey Jack, see if you can find some rope," Gordon added as an after thought.

Jack gritted his teeth as the expected aftermath of the bite became more and more present. As the adrenaline faded from his system the fiery throbbing in his numb hand was becoming more obvious. It had begun to creep up his arm and he could see the swelling was tightening the tourniquet. If he wasn't careful he was going to lose his hand. He pulled at the strip tied around his forearm and removed it from his swollen extremity. Maybe it was his imagination, but he could almost feel the poison excitedly rushing through the rest of his blood stream. They would just have to get out of the cave before things got bad. What the hell was he talking about, things were already bad.

He rummaged through the pile, almost too easily stumbling upon a couple of climbing harnesses and rope. He gathered them up with his working arm and headed arduously back to the pit.

"Nice," Gordon commented as Jack dropped the equipment at his side. Jack, too, dropped to his knees heavily beside him. "Hey, are you doing all right?"

Jack shrugged. Gordon grimly left it at that and silently threaded the rope through the loops of the harness, tying and tightening it once, twice, three times. "Hey Sam?"

Sam had somehow managed to shift his aching body into a sitting position, supported by the pit wall. As his head cleared he found that other than a sharp throb in his skull, and dull throb throughout his muscles, and a intense throb in his already injured leg, he wasn't as bad off as he had initially thought. He grunted a response to Gordon as gently probed his leg. His hand moved down his shin toward the epicentre of pain and eventually brushed over a kink in his bone. He groaned to himself, more annoyed at his finding than anything else.

"Sam," Gordon called again. "You think you can get this harness on okay? Or do you want one of us to repel down?"

"I think I can managed," he answered with pseudo confidence. He was pretty sure his lower leg was broken but if he could get passed that part, then it shouldn't be too difficult.

"Oookay…here it comes then." He lowered the harness to Sam, trying not to think about how the hell he was going to drag four injured men through all the labyrinthine tunnels. When the harness touched down on the ledge he gave it extra line and then backed up so he could pass it around one of the slabs and then around his own back. He looked back at Jack who was listlessly watching Sam. Well, he wasn't going to be much help. "Hey Jack," he snapped trying not to let his frustration show. "I think I've got this, you watch Sam, make sure he doesn't get caught on the way up."

The order snapped Jack from his daze and he nodded at Gordon then leaned further over the chasm. He took a deep focusing breath. "Are you ready, Sam?"

"Just a second." Sam tugged the last fastener as tight as it would go and nodded up at Jack. His brow was covered in perspiration from manoeuvring his broken leg through the harness, but if it was going to get him back up to Dean he was willing to suffer it. He tried to dry his clammy hands on his pants and then grasped the rope as it became taut. It took a couple of heaves before Sam felt himself rise off the ledge. His legs dangled clumsily below him and despite his efforts banged sporadically against the craggy wall. His face contorted in pain but he bit his lower lip and sucked in his moans and groans.

The ascent was jerky and difficult and Sam hung suspended every couple of minutes as Gordon tried to catch his breath. When he finally became level with the rim of the pit he let go off the rope and grasped at the rocks, trying to pull himself over the edge. Jack reached down and helped to haul him up with his one arm. With Gordon still pulling the rope Sam was finally able to climb back to safety and the three hunters collapsed where they were in relief and exhaustion. Sam breathed deeply trying to stay with it as the pain from dragging his leg over the ledge had temporarily debilitated him.

Gordon was the first to recover and came over to check on Sam and Jack. They were both still panting through their own respective pains. "Okay Scotty," he joked, "we're good now, beam us out."

Sam smirked gloomily at Gordon as he struggled to sit up. "Think my leg is broken," he lamented, "can you help me over to Dean. If it hadn't been for his leg he would be at his brother's side already. Gordon nodded and gently hauled Sam to his feet, supporting him on his injured side. They hobbled painfully towards Dean as Jack lagged behind them.

Dean lay exactly as Jack had left him. Gordon deposited Sam at his side then returned to help Jack bring over their supplies.

Sam's breath caught in his chest as he laid his eyes upon his brother. "Dean?" He leaned over him and instinctively moved to check his pulse. When he found it to be strong and present he tenderly patted Dean's blood streaked cheek, but Dean gave no signs of coming to. It was no wonder; the gash on his head, even though it had scabbed over, had swollen profusely. It was Dean's lack of consciousness that truly worried Sam but he did a quick survey anyway, making sure he didn't miss anything critical.

He carefully felt Dean's head, searching for more concussive injuries. Other than the goose egg at the base of his skull from a few days ago nothing else seemed relative. Blood was caked throughout his hair and the swelling at his temple was starting to creep around his eye. They needed ice, clean water… they needed to be in a hospital. Sam sighed and continued his exam.

There was deep bruising around his neck and Sam figured his wheezy breathing had something to do with the obvious strangling. Again, something he could nothing about. "Dammit," he cursed starting to feel the frustration of being helpless. Beyond these Dean's arm was scabbed with old and newer scratches, a particular long fresh one running the length of it. His wrists were tied with blood soaked cotton and various other minor scratches peaked through his tattered shirt. Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, at a loss for how to help Dean here and now.

In the meantime Gordon and Jack had, with great difficulty, moved Darrin out from his ineffective refuge and laid him closer to the brothers. Jack, who was starting to look as pale as Darrin, was worriedly palpating his friend's abdomen. It was tense and bruised and as he moved to the bandaged right side Darrin let out a pitiful whimper. "We need a hospital," he mourned and brushed a blonde lock off of Darrin's pallid, sticky brow, then wiped his own feverish sweat on his sleeve.

Sam looked hopelessly at Jack, then desperately back at his comatose brother. The thrill of vanquishing the demon gatekeeper was now long forgotten as dismay filled the atmosphere once again.


	39. Chapter 39

THIRTYNINE

They sat silently as the flare grew dimmer, drinking in the hopelessness of it all. Sam quietly cleaned the blood from Dean's face and arms as best he could and rewrapped the wounds in clean strips of linen. As he was tying the last piece around Dean's sliced wrist he was startled from his nursing by a sudden fluttering in the air. It shocked them all to attention. Gordon, the last remaining capable body, snatched up his shotgun and followed the flying shape suspiciously. It was nothing in size compared to the bats and only when it landed on one of the nearby corpses did their disbelieving eyes see a black, feathered raven. A raven!

"Where the hell did that come from?" Gordon lowered his gun and took a step towards the bird, half expecting it to vanish as any apparition normally would. The bird pecked greedily at the innards splayed across the slab, but startled when Gordon came closer and flew off down one of the numerous tunnels. "I'll be back." He picked up one of the dying flares, a flashlight, and his shotgun and jogged after the bird.

"There's no way that was living down here," Sam reasoned optimistically, "and it couldn't have made its way through all those tunnels."

Jack just smirked and shrugged as his fever started to take a stronger hold.

"We're going to get out of here," he told Jack who tried to smile more sincerely, but gave up and leaned resignedly against the wall.

Well Sam wasn't ready to just give in and wait for rescue. If only he could get around better... He pulled himself over to the miscellaneous supplies that littered the cavern and grabbed a backcountry tent pole, slicing the bungee and removing two of the segments. He padded his leg with a dissected sleeping bag, placed a rod on each side of his tibia, and then used strips of the bag to fasten the splint in place. It hurt like a bitch as he manoeuvre his leg into the splint and beads of sweat quickly formed from all the effort, but he knew the support would ease the pain at least a bit. He gritted his teeth as he tightly fastened the last tie. Now maybe, just maybe, with the aid of a crutch he would be able to be of more use. He spotted a pair of high-tech hiking poles; better than nothing he thought and dragged them from the pile. When Gordon came back they would find their way out of this damned cave.

He had barely envisioned their escape when Gordon came tearing back into the chamber. "I found it," he was yelling as he rushed across the room. When he reached them he bent over, hands on his thighs, as he caught his breath. "I found it," he repeated when he had gained enough air to speak. "The way out! Frikin' bird lead me right to it!"

Sam furrowed his brows in disbelief. Could it be that easy. There was probably some chasm to cross or ledge to traverse, the way this hunt had been going it would not surprise him. "There's gotta be a catch."

"Sure feels like there should be one," Gordon admitted. "Maybe the roof will fall in on us before we can make it out, but hell, I'd go for it anyway."

Sam finally felt entitled to a heavy sigh of relief and elation. Maybe they were due for some good karma; they did just kill a demon, and that had to count in somebody's eyes.

"Jack?" Gordon dropped down beside his ailing friend. "What do you say we get outta here."

Jack nodded slightly, "hell yeah." He awkwardly got to his feet, bracing himself on the wall. "This poison," he panted, "really, really sucks."

"Tell me about it," Sam said as he laboriously pulled himself up with a little help from Gordon. He ignored the thumping and throbbing that twisted through his body, and only paused briefly to acknowledge his pounding head. It was probably nothing compared to what Dean was going to wake up to, and if Dean could suffer it, then so could he. Once he was upright he found that he could effectively hobble around propped between the two poles, as long as he didn't put any weight on the broken leg.

"Now what do we do about these two?" Gordon indicated their comatose companions.

"If we get Darrin into a sleeping bag," Jack began and then paused to maintain his composure. "If we get him into a bag we can drag him. He won't like it, but there's not much choice." He clutched his arm as another wave of pain rocked though it.

"Can't we just drag Dean the same way?"

"Yes and no," Jack answered hesitantly. "Did you see the way he hit the wall?" Sam had to admit that most of the fight had been a big blur. It had shocked him enough just to find Dean in the demon's clutches. "Well," Jack continued, "it looked to me like a head on collision and his injuries seem to confirm that. It just makes me worry a bit about a neck injury."

Sam nodded, trying to hide the worry that was inevitably creeping into his face. Did that mean that Dean could be paralyzed?

"Hey," Jack said, noticing at once the subtle apprehensive change in Sam. "There's no reason to believe that's going to be a problem. I'm just saying it's a precaution we should take when we move him, at least until he wakes up and we can better evaluate things." Sam nodded wordless. Jack was right that there was no need to worry just yet, but it was hard to remove such thoughts from his mind.

Gordon returned with a sleeping bag and removed it from it's compacting pouch. "I'll get Darrin bundled up if you guys look for some sort of backboard." He suggested while he unzipped the bag and laid it alongside his unconscious friend. Now that he had relived a moment of fresh air and sun he couldn't get out of the cave fast enough. He rolled Darrin on to the sleeping bag a little rougher than he intended to, causing him to tense up and groan in response to the stimulus. "Sorry, dude, but we're gonna be out of here real soon."

Darrin's eyes flickered as Gordon jostled the bag trying to zip it up. "Gordon?" He felt like he was a hundred miles away from his body and sounds came slow and hazy. His head was pounding but he couldn't remember why. He clutched weakly at his tender abdomen. "Demon gone?"

"Yup," Gordon answered as he pulled the zippered up passed Darrin's chest.

"Dean okay?"

Gordon paused on that one.. "yup," he eventually lied.

With a slight nod of satisfaction Darrin closed his eyes. His abdomen had started to spasm again and he grimaced each time his muscles tightened. Gordon knew there was nothing more they could do here and now and figured Darrin was even more aware of this fact. "Be right back," he told him, but Darrin didn't respond. "After this," he muttered as he walked towards Jack and Sam, "I am not dealing with any more injuries or illnesses for a very, very long time."

Sam and Jack's search, thus far, had been unsuccessful. There didn't seem to be a single thing flat enough or long enough that was going to work. "Found anything," Gordon asked as he joined them. Sam shook his head. Jack was behind him gasping for air and looking absolutely feverish and forlorn. "Go check on Dean," Gordon told him. "Sam and I will find something." Jack obediently shuffled back to the patients, who he was likely to join if they didn't get some antitoxin into him.

"There's nothing here," Sam said as he dumped out another pack.

"We need to get to a hospital and we still have a long way to go once we're out of this cave." Gordon knew Sam didn't need to be reminded of the urgency but it helped to remind himself.

Sam nodded gravely. "I'm wondering if we bind enough tent poles together if we can make some sort of sturdy cradle."

"Sounds good." Gordon didn't pause to admit that anything sounded good as long as it got them out of the cave. "I saw a roll of duct tape by those slabs. I think they used it to bandage Dare. If you grab that I'll gather some poles."

"Ok," Sam hopped to a small sorted pile of items and, with difficulty, reached down and grabbed the roll of tape. He stifled a grunt and hobbled back to Gordon, who was working furiously to collect and arrange a number of longer poles. Within a couple of minutes they had constructed a pliable frame that they could fold around Dean and keep his neck and back straight.

"With enough padding this will work great," Gordon commented, pleased with their makeshift apparatus. He grabbed another couple of sleeping bag and carried them and the backboard over to Dean, Sam limping behind him.

It took some time and effort to get Dean situated properly. Jack instructed them to move him as little as possible and this made it particularly difficult to get their backboard in place. Once it was under him, stretching from his waist to a couple of inches above his head, they snugly tied him to it. A couple of rolled up blankets supported his neck and Gordon placed one last strip of tape across his forehead to secured it to the brace.

"Guess that's as good as it gets." Gordon looked off towards the tunnel of their escape. He needed at least four other healthy guys to move them out of the cave, down the trail, into the cars, and to the hospital, and he thought the day was already feeling long. He scrunched his face, wondering how long it was going to take one person to do all that. "Well…" He forced out a breath in exasperation. "I guess we take them one at a time."

Sam looked down at his splinted leg, but knew there was no way he was walking on it without the support of his makeshift crutches. That meant both his hands were in use. "Maybe we could…"

But Gordon knew where he was going and interrupted him. "As far as I'm concerned you got rid of the demon. That gives you a free pass on this one. Besides, Limpy-McGee, I don't think you'll be moving very fast with one of these guys tethered to you."

Sam furrowed his eyebrows and tried to think of how he could possibly be useful. It troubled him to think that if Gordon had been injured they would have been royally screwed. However, if Dean and Darrin hadn't left the cabin then they would be dealing with one bite wound, and one broken leg, and would have been out of the cave already. He shook his head, planning how he would tell Dean how stupid he was as soon as he was doing better. He looked over at Jack who was slumped against the wall, ignoring their discussion, consumed in his own discomfort. He sighed, "I think Jack'll probably need a hand anyway."

Gordon nodded and then grabbed the corners of Darrin's sleeping bag, twisting the material in his fists so he had a good grip. "I'll be right back," he said looking at Sam despite the fading flare. He tucked a flashlight beside Darrin's shoulder and then hoisted the front end of the bag off the ground. Darrin whimpered at the movement and looked up at Gordon distressed. "Sorry, Dare, it's going to be a bit of a bumpy ride."


	40. Chapter 40

FOURTY

Fifteen minutes and a couple of breathers later Gordon could finally see the spot of sunshine leaking into the cave. He lowered Darrin's head to the ground and stood up from his stoop, panting. "Was it as good for you as it was for me?"

"Lucky I didn't puke," he mumbled, still looking, as he had the entire way, that he was on the verge of it. Miraculously, he had remained conscious and, despite hitting several jarring potholes and boulders, hadn't let out a single grumble or gripe. Gordon, on the other hand, had apologized about ten million times until Darrin exhaustedly shook his head, indicating that he understood.

He snatched up the head of the sleeping bag once more and dragged it up a gravel embankment which gave way to a tight elliptical opening. Gordon had stuck his head out the first time and figured they were at the top of the cliffy walls where they had enter an eternity ago. "Might as well move you all the way outside eh?"

"What's that?" Darrin muttered.

"What's what?" Gordon answered as he pulled Darrin as close to the hole as he could and then positioned himself so he could shimmy through it backwards.

"The outside."

"Ha ha," he said sarcastically even though he couldn't help but smile. "You are one funny guy." He heaved on the bag, wriggled backwards and then heaved again. "Know what else dude," - heave - "You are also one heavy guy." - heave - "Next time you better do some dieting before I have to haul your ass around." - heave - and then he was out of the cave. He gently pulled the rest of Darrin's body from the opening and then fell back on the grass, relieved and revived. If only he could stay here a while, under the warmth of the sun, inhaling breath after breath of evergreen air. He looked despairingly back at the cave's entrance. He was crazy to go back in, but he sighed and sat up anyway.

He looked over at Darrin who was shockingly pale under the light of the sun. His eyes were closed against the glare and they squeezed tight whenever a wave of agony would pass through him. Gordon placed the back of his hand on Darrin's clammy forehead and felt the unnatural warmth of fever.

"Infection," Darrin mumbled without bothering to open his eyes.

"Well, at least it's a normal fever."

Darrin just grunted in response.

"Okay, well, I guess I better go get the others. You gonna be ok?"

Darrin gave a slight nod. He was on the brink of giving in to the exhaustion that had been pulling at him since this morning. At least now he could rest easy, cradled by the warmth of day.

Gordon pulled in a deep breath, as if he were to dive a hundred meters under the sea, and crawled back into the cave. As he walked away from the opening the sunlight very quickly gave way to the eternal darkness. "I am never doing a cave job again, ever," he told himself as he quickly made his way back to the others. It took only a fraction of the time when he wasn't dragging another body and all too soon he entered the vast chamber where a dim flashlight shone in one of the farther corners. The flare must have died off.

Gordon traipsed back to the group to find them mostly the same. Jack was now laying on the ground, restlessly asleep under another sleeping bag, and Dean remained out for the count. That was probably for the best considering how uncomfortable moving him was going to be.  
Sam had clambered to his feet as he heard Gordon's approach. Forgetting himself he let some weight fall on his injured leg and ribbons of intense pain shot up from the fractured bone. It was slightly blinding but he had regained his composure before Gordon drew near. "How it go?" he asked as Gordon bent to rouse Jack.

"Not bad I guess. Though I'm not so sure about the hike down…" He shook his head dismissively and turned his mind back to the present, shaking Jack's shoulder gently. Jack was slow and foggy to come around but, with a little help, was still able to get to his feet. He shifted Jack over to Sam for a little support. "Round two," he said wearily and then stooped to pick up the head of the backboard which was nestled in yet another sleeping bag. Dean's body bent at the hips and Gordon wasn't sure if that was going to make things easier or more difficult. He moved a couple feet and found that the board gave the body a little more structure and that meant less readjusting. He looked to Sam and Jack. "Ready boys?"

Sam nodded and hobbled behind Gordon as he began to tow Dean out of the cavern. He cringed as Dean was jostled over the uneven surface, half expecting to see the same look on his brother's face, but the movement did little to change his condition.

It was an arduous journey but as they turned the final corner and saw the light beaming into the cave it made their struggles float into the past. Even Jack, who had been moving on auto pilot, lifted his head as the fresher air filled his lungs. They urged him through the opening first and he feebly pulled himself out of the cave, collapsing beside Darrin on the other side. They moved Dean out the same way Gordon had moved Darrin and all too soon Sam was the last remaining occupant of the cavern. With a huge sigh of relief he pulled himself through the opening behind his brother.

Sam was beside Dean without pause, checking on how he had faired the relocation. He seemed depressingly unchanged and this worried Sam more than if he were moaning and groaning in agony. The bruising and swelling had definitely spread and in the natural light it peppered the side of his forehead and face with golds, blues, and most intensely, deep purples. His eyes were sunken in dark circles and the deep gash across his temple didn't improve the picture any. How the hell were they going to get back to town?

Gordon's thoughts were probing the same issue. "I wish this was as far as we had to go," he lamented as they all took a moment to revel in the sun.

"Gordon…" Darrin was desperately trying to get his friend's attention in his depleted state.

Gordon shifted to his side. "What's up pal?"

"Helicopter…"

They turned their eyes to the cloudless sky but neither heard nor saw any flying machines. He shook his head indicating his bewilderment.

"Not now… before… flew over twice, slow and low."

Both Sam and Gordon did a double take on that news. "You think it was search and rescue, Dare?"

Darrin nodded before closing his eyes again, satisfied that this pertinent information had been relayed.

"They probably saw the cars at the trailhead, they've been there for almost a week now."

Sam smirked thinking it a little ironic that Dean's car was elemental in saving their butts yet again. "Do you think they saw Darrin."

"If they were looking I can't see how they could miss him, low tree cover, bright red sleeping bag. I wonder how long ago that was." He looked to ask Darrin but he was fitfully back asleep and Gordon couldn't bare to rouse him needlessly. There was no way he would know if and when the helicopter would return.

Gordon surveyed their injuries, deciding on whether to move or wait for rescue. Darrin's color had not improved, but the fact that he had noticed the helicopter and had the energy to convey that meant he was not as bad off as he ought to have been. Jack had mentioned at some point that he suspected internal injuries and bleeding but they had never removed the bandages to check for sure. Whatever first aiding Dean had provided for Darrin was doing its job, for now. On the other hand, his fever had definitely increased and peritonitis was inevitable with such injuries. Even though it would take some time to cause trouble it would not just be willed away.

Jack's fever was of a different color and he could probably be dragged back to the cabin to receive some antitoxin and recover over the next couple days. He also needed some serious attention paid to his grossly swollen hand, not to mention a hundred other scratches from fending off a multitude of bat talons. However, that meant dragging Sam along to get some of his blood and Gordon figured somehow they could treat Jack discreetly at the hospital the same way.

Then there were the brothers. Sam was doing not bad considering his one-legged-ness, but he definitely needed some attention. He, too, was covered in scratches old and new. Most notable was his wounded, torn shoulder and a couple of particularly nasty scratches across his scalp, both obtained earlier that week. Then of course there was his bitten and broken leg, which meant a painful hobbled back to the cars, so it could be set and bandaged properly.

Lastly, there was Dean, who had by far taken the brunt of the demon's fury and fight. Although Gordon had only witnessed the final blow that had taken out the hunter he could see by the other injuries that Darrin and Dean had endured much without them. His bruised neck, wheezing, and head injury were most concerning. Although Gordon was no doctor he had definitely been around and he wondered if there was some sort of brain bleeding that was making things complicated. This was the most pressing of their injuries and the one that pushed Gordon to considered the fastest way to the hospital.

He had little more time to think of their options when the rhythmic thud of helicopter blades filled the air and the trees shuddered under the pressure of the winds. Sam and Gordon shared a look of pure gratification as the helicopter came into sight and hovered above the clearing to their right. A minute later a metal cradle was lowered, followed by two medical personnel.

"I can't believe this luck," Gordon shouted to Sam over the blades of the chopper. Sam just nodded, too consumed with worry for his brother.

The medics rushed towards them. "Where did you all come from?" One of them asked as his partner crouched to evaluate Dean first. "Our reports said there was only one."

"The woods," Gordon answered unsure what else to say. Then he remembered the warnings at the trailhead. "Ran into a bear."

The medic nodded, probably wondering why five idiots had come up here when it was obvious that the area had been closed for that exact reason. Gordon stepped aside and let them do a quick triage. He could see the bafflement as they examined Jack. "We need another unit," one walkie-talkied in and then continued with his quick and efficient assessments.

"Let's move the head injury first," the other one with Dean said and went to retrieve an actual backboard from the cradle. If the medics thought their injuries were random they didn't mention it

"I need to go with him," Sam piped up as they began to bundle Dean for transport. "I need to be with him, he's my brother."

The medic looked him up and down, eyes lingering on the makeshift splint. "Can you sit in a chair?"

"Yeah, that won't be a problem."

"Alright, we have to get you all out of here anyway."

As they secured Dean to the board Sam looked back at the three damaged hunters who had been strangers mere days ago. The job was done but Sam knew it wasn't time to part ways, not just yet. He shifted towards Gordon. "I'll get some serum for Jack at the hospital. Try to find me when you get there."

Gordon nodded gratefully and watched as the medics lifted Dean into the cradle and hoisted him into the aircraft. Then Sam too was cradled up into the helicopter and the rest were left to wait for the next flight.


	41. Chapter 41

FOURTYONE

Dean was rushed out of the helicopter almost before it landed on the pad, leaving Sam confounded by all the hustle. The medic riding with them had worked on Dean the entire way, relaying information to the hospital that Sam couldn't hear and it had been too loud to ask any questions. All he could do was twist around in his chair and watch Dean's unchanging features. Then he was rushed away from him and Sam was griped with an overwhelming sense of loneliness.

As the helicopter blades began to slow another crew made its way towards the pad, most likely for him. The last thing Sam felt like enduring was a load of medical smothering and he briefly toyed with refusing care. Jack could probably set his leg when he felt better. The only thing that changed his mind was the hope that being a patient would give him better updates on Dean's condition.

"Hullo love," a short middle-aged nurse addressed him. "Don't you worry yourself about hobbling around, we have a nice wheelchair for you." Sam smiled politely but stoically, and made a move to climb from the chopper. One of the attendants rushed to his side and unnecessarily helped him hop to the ground and then the two steps to the chair. Little did they know all that Sam had managed without them up to this point.

"What's your name, love?" the nurse asked as she walked along side him, clip board and pen in hand.

Sam was busy thinking about Dean and thoughtlessly answered, "Sam." He shook his head as the name came out of his mouth, oops, but too late now. "Roberts," he quickly added. "Sam Roberts." Good enough he thought.

The nurse made no hesitation as she wrote the name down. They were inside the hospital now and wheeling passed several emergency suites. A couple of the rooms were full of activity and Sam wondered if Dean was in one of them. "My brother was brought in with me," he mentioned to the nurse hoping she would have at least some sort of answer for him.

"Yes, I know." she answered without looking up from her papers, walking and talking and writing all at the same time. "He was taken into emergency but other than that, dear, I can't say." She looked up then, wondering how Sam would react to her limited answer. The young man's face was creased with worry and despite herself, the nurse felt her heart go out to him. "I suspect someone will come and get some information from you later. They should be able to update you then."

By now they had entered some general ward and Sam was pulled up along side a bed. "We'll pop you up on here," the nurse said as she patted the cot. Sam obliged wordlessly and hobbled over to sit on the bed as the nurse helped support him. The white sheets were instantly soiled with the passed week's blood and grime. "Someone will be by shortly to check you over." She smiled warmly and then bustled away, with the orderlies in tow.

Sam lay back in the inclined bed, amused by its softness. It seemed like a horribly long time since he had experienced such luxury. He absently watched the comings and goings of the ward and was rather listless until he noted a cupboard with a selection on crutches just across from him. He was sick with worry for Dean but he knew that answers would be a long time coming. He had to do something to take his mind off it and he couldn't help but think on his promise to Gordon. Jack had undoubtedly saved Dean's life the first time around and Sam owed him a great deal more than a couple drops of blood.

He pushed himself off the bed and hopped over to the crutches. Grabbing a pair he hobbled out into the hall without drawing a single bit of attention from the bustling ward. If he was lucky he would stumble into Gordon, but if not he would just have to get the serum and have it ready for when they did find each other again. He wasn't so skilled to be able to draw his own blood so he headed towards the hospital lab. If he had been Dean, he would have found the prettiest lab tech, worked his mojo, and then just asked her, and she would have done it. Sounded like it could be easy, if he only had Dean's charm. Dammit Dean, he thought, why didn't you stay at the cabin. But how could he have expected him to? Would he have stayed behind had the roles been reversed?

Distracted by his thoughts he almost forgot to keep an eye out for Gordon, but as he passed through the emergency waiting room he didn't see him anywhere amid the congregates. He continued to the lab and shortly found himself in another smaller waiting room. He took a couple minutes to observe this one and found the nurses calling names for sample collection. When someone didn't get up at one of the names they just moved on to the next one. Ok, so really he just had to wait for an ownerless name. He parked himself close to the entrance and before he knew it Wayne Gillis had been called twice without any waiting room response. He tentatively stood up and stepped forward as the nurse took one last look around the room. As she saw him approaching she smiled warmly, "Mr. Gillis?" Sam nodded.

"Looks like you've had a rough day," she commented as she ushered him into a small exam room. Sam nodded.

She kept up a cheery string of chatter as she prepared everything, seemingly oblivious to his haggard appearance. It was nice listening to her light prattle which, even though Sam couldn't recall what it was about, had nothing to do with demons, death, or darkness. She was easy on the eyes too and if Sam was living a different life he might have toyed with asking her out. She drew a generous sample, filling several different coloured vials. It was only then that she did a double take at the requisition form. "Now you don't look sixty three! What did you say your name was?"

"Wayne Giles," Sam mumbled changing the last name just slightly.

"Oh my," she giggled and blushed, "I think I have the wrong form. I'll be right back." As she hastened back to the front desk Sam grabbed his vials of blood and slipped inconspicuously down the opposite hallway and out of the lab. Well, that certainly was easy. He made his way laboriously back to emergency. His leg was feeling less numb and was beginning to ache with an exhausting persistence. He was looking forward to getting back to resting and trying to patient as he waited for news on his brother.

As he found himself back at the emergency entrance he unexpectedly stumbled upon his bloodied comrade. Gordon was pacing, ardent and impatient, around the waiting room. When he saw Sam his tired face still managed to lighten up in recognition. "Hey," he said as Sam approached. "What are you doing hobbling around. Shouldn't you be getting x-rays or a cast applied or… I don't know, some sort of medical care. You really look like you need it."

"Speak for yourself," Sam remarked amiably as he eased himself into a vacant corner chair.

"How's Dean?"

When Sam tried to run a hand through his hair, but found it sticky with blood. Man, he needed a shower. "Wish I knew," he replied. "He went into emergency and that's the first and last I heard."

"Well that's the regular hospital run around, isn't it? That's what I got for Darrin and Jack too."

"Hmm," Sam snorted, still not patient enough to manage such a wait. Just as he felt himself getting worked up enough to harass some information out of someone the robust admitting nurse came bustling towards them.

"There you are, dear. We thought we lost you. But here you are and the doctor's ready to see you." She motioned for Sam to get into the wheelchair she had brought with her. Despite her bubbliness he could tell she was annoyed about him disappearing.

Sam sighed and pushed himself up with the crutches. "Any news on my brother?" he asked her as he obediently sat in the wheelchair, trying not to sound too needy.

"No," she said blatantly, then softened her response as she saw the disappointment sag his shoulder. "Not yet, but I will ask around." She turned to Gordon before she wheeled away. "Speaking of questions, young man, there's some about your sick friend. If you go to the desk I believe one of the doctors would like to speak to you."

Gordon frowned and looked to Sam, wondering how they could get the antitoxin from one man to the other. "Good luck," was all Sam said and stuck his hand out in a deliberate hand shake. Gordon took it bewildered and distressed that Sam was just going leave them hanging after all they had been through. That was until he felt the vials pressing into his palm. He closed he fist discreetly and pulled his hand back nodding gratefully to the other hunter. He should have known that Sam had it covered from the beginning. He watched as he was rolled down the hall and then approached the desk with intentions to find Jack as soon as possible.


	42. Chapter 42

FOURTYTWO

Hours and hours had passed and Sam was suppose to be resting now that he had been x-ray, casted, cleaned up, sewn up, and fed too. He had to admit that it did feel good not be covered in layers of crusty dirt and blood. Regardless, he still felt restless. He had heard little news on Dean. A doctor had come by ages ago to ok surgery. He said Dean had been stabilized in emergency but had a subdural haematoma which needed to be drained. Sam wasn't sure how long that type of surgery would usually take but he would have thought he'd heard something by now. All the waiting was leading him to think something had gone wrong. Just before he was about to go crazy with anxiety a surgeon entered the four person room he had been transferred to.

He spotted the dark haired brother immediately and strode confidently over to speak with him. "Mr. Roberts?" he asked just to be sure.

Sam nodded readily and pushed himself up from his slouch.

"I'm Dr. Rourke, one of the surgeons who worked on your brother." He continued without pause, eager to relieve the lines of worry that creased the younger man's face. "He's doing well considering the severity of his head injury."

"He's going to be okay then?" Sam asked not sure what the doctor meant by 'doing well considering.'

"There was a lot of internal bleeding and this put a lot of pressure on his brain. We've removed that pressure and stopped the bleeding but we won't be sure of any permanent damage until he wakes up."

He swallowed the knot in his throat, relieved that the doctor hadn't finished his sentence with 'if he wakes up.' "What kind of damage?" he found himself asking instead, even though he wasn't sure if he wanted to know.

The doctor sighed, even though he knew Sam was going to ask that. "We're not going to know exactly what portion of the brain will be affected until we can talk to him. The most we can do right now is keep him stable and hope the swelling in his brain goes down quickly."

Sam lay back against his pillow to try and digest this new update. It wasn't as good as he had hoped, but it wasn't as bad as it could be either. "Can I see him?" he ventured just as the doctor turned to leave.

He paused and scratched his head. "I imagine he should be moving into the ICU shortly, once he's settled in I'll have a nurse come get you."

Sam nodded gratefully and sank into his pillow with relief as the doctor left the room. As half of his worries drifted away he suddenly felt terribly exhausted. The pressures and pains of the last week simultaneously lifted away and he fell into a dreamless sleep.

***

His catnap seemed all too brief when he was awaken by yet another face. Lines from the years creased her face and exaggerated her frown. "Dr. Rourke said you wanted to visit your brother."

Sam just nodded eagerly.

As he was wheeled up to the ICU and towards Dean's room he tried to prepare himself for the worst. He reasoned that he couldn't possibly look worse than he had before the helicopter had come and this was moderately reassuring. They entered a dimly lit room filled with a plethora of tubes and machines surrounding Dean's bed. It wasn't until the nurse rolled him around to the far side that Sam was finally able to see his brother. He cringed as he took in his sleeping form. His head was dressed in clean white bandages that hid the demon's assault as well as the surgical incision. His neck was braced by a padded collar which, another doctor had explained, would stay in place until they could further evaluate the damage. Sam had grown tired of hearing that phrase very quickly. It meant that they didn't know how well Dean was going to recover until he woke up, and nobody could give him an answer on when that would be.

The nursed parked Sam by Dean's left side and then used the bed controls to lower it to his level. When he was finally able to see his brother's features clearly he was shocked by how unwell he looked. If it wasn't for the beeping and bleeping that indicated he was still alive Sam would have thought otherwise. His face was drawn and grey, and dark purple circles rimmed his eyes. His cheeks were sallow and sunken making him look like he hadn't eaten in days, which as Sam reflected, was almost true. He really only had a soup or two at the cabin and they had been up there for almost a week.

The nurse was fussing about at the foot of Dean's bed and Sam nodded at her curtly in thanks, but also in dismissal. She got the hint and after scratching a couple of things on Dean's chart left the two brothers in peace. Sam rolled his chair as close to the bed as it would possibly go. He stared despondently at his brother's face for a long time, trying not to feel too disheartened. They had been through worse, right?

As the clock crawled towards the hour Sam could feel his head being to bob with exhaustion. If he had laid his head down on the bed, as he had most felt like doing, then he would have complete missed the flicker of movement beneath Dean's eyelids. He immediately perked up with attention and grabbed his brother's hand, squeezing it encouragingly.

"Dean…" Sam whispered eagerly as his brother furrowed his brow in deep concentration. "Come on, man, wake up for me."

It didn't take much prodding before Dean peered blearily out from his weary eyes. They were dull and almost grey against the dark purple circles, but quick to focus on Sam's comforting face. He immediately frowned at his brother. One: because he felt horribly uncomfortable lying braced and snug under the hospital sheets. And two: because Sam was holding his hand and looked all gooey and mushy with relief. He pulled his hand away and immediately started to fumble with the cervical collar.

Surprised by Dean's proficient movements, Sam was slow to snatch his hand away from the collar, "Dean, don't…" But his other hand had already found the fastener and it was undone and on the floor before Sam could protest further. He then immediately turned his attention to the tight sheets and began to feebly kick at them.

Sam sighed in relief. At least they didn't have to worry about paralysis. Trying to keep Dean still, he put a calming hand on his thigh. "Ok ok, stop kicking, I got it." He reached down and pulled the sheets from under the mattress. Dean grunted in satisfaction and with one last surge of effort twisted onto his side to face Sam. He paid dearly for the movement as his abused body shot signals of pain passed the medications. His eyes snapped shut sharply as he tried to hold in the unexpected torment.

Riddled with concern, Sam pulled himself closer to the bed, uncertain how to help. No matter; in a couple of anguished breaths Dean was more composed and again opened his eyes. "How're you feeling?" he asked softly, resisting the urge to hug him to pieces.

Dean tried to clear his parched throat and was rewarded with a dull burning up and down it. He wondered what that was all about. Come to think of it, and that was not an easy thing to do, he wondered what this whole predicament was about. He knew he felt like crap, like he had been crushed between the Hulk and the Thing. He knew the aches, though clouded right now, would be intense and numerous should the pain medications wear off. The worst being the symphony of drums looming in his head, which he was so not looking forward to. Sam, too, was looking like he'd gone a couple rounds with something sharp and nasty. He was peppered with a variety of old and new, deep and shallow scratches. What the hell had they been hunting? It had also not slipped passed Dean's foggy perception that his brother was in a wheelchair. This was what most concerned Dean and he ineptly motioned at the whole of Sam demanding an explanation with his eyes alone.

"I'm fine," Sam answered exasperated that Dean had avoided his own question. "I asked how you were."

Swallowing a lump of thick mucus he managed to croak out 'water.' Sam nodded, eager that he was able to do something, and buzzed the nurse. Dean motioned again at Sam and painfully choked out 'wheelchair?'

Sam rolled his eyes but knew Dean wasn't going to let it go until he was satisfied with an answer. "Don't worry about it, I fell and broke my leg. It's really nothing compared to…" But he let the rest of his words dwindle away. His leg was pretty much the smallest of all the injuries the cave had inflicted upon them. His thoughts wandered briefly to the other hunters and especially Jack. Hopefully, Gordon had found him quickly and was able to administer the serum. His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of one of the ward nurses.

She surveyed the two brothers then addressed Sam. "Awake is he?" Her eyes flashed in displeasure to the discarded cervical collar, "and lively too." Little did she know what a treasure Dean was going to be once he started feeling better. At Sam's request she left to get some water and returned quickly with a doctor in toe.

"Well, that's encouraging," he said brightly as he entered the room. Dean was not looking as delighted to see the doctor. "And it looks like our paralysis worries are off the list," he comment as he noted the movement under the sheets at the foot of the bed. "Still, we better take a look and see how things are progressing. How's the head?" He approached Dean on the other side of the bed so he wasn't able to see the exasperated eye rolling. Sam, on the other hand was, and returned the look with a stern 'just tolerate it' stare. Dean sighed and rolled stiffly onto his back, jostling another wave of agony free. He kept that one hidden. As the doctor began to flash his annoying little penlight into his eyes Dean resolved to get out of here as soon as possible. Then he could finally ask Sam what the hell they had just been through.


	43. Chapter 43

FOURTYTHREE

The hospital lay quieter now as the day wound down to its end. Sam had been discharged but since he had nowhere to go and Dean was here he found himself haunting the waiting rooms and cafeteria. He'd hobble around on his crutches from one place to another then sit down for a while to observe the people littering the halls. Dean had been taken up for his CT scan a little while ago and Sam had given up on asking when he would be back, at least for the next couple of minutes.

He was making his way back towards the cafeteria when he noticed two familiar characters sitting at one of the tables. He hobbled towards them and, upon them looking up, was greeted with warm smiles. Gordon pushed a chair out for him as he drew near and Sam gratefully settled into the uncomfortable plastic.

Gordon had obviously found himself a shower and some clean clothes and was looking fairly fresh considering. He wore long slacks and a button up shirt which covered the large majority of wounds he had endured. Only the couple of scratches that peppered his hands and a deeper slice across his cheek gave hint to the damages underneath.

On the other hand, Jack was looking like he should still be in a hospital bed and not sitting drearily in the cafeteria pretending to be interested in a juice and muffin. His complexion was ashen and his hand, though bandaged, was still grossly swollen. Regardless of his lacklustre appearance it was obvious that Gordon had got him the serum. It had probably been a couple hours since then and in a couple more he'd be right as rain.

"Hey," Gordon greeted him as he sat, "how are the brothers doing?"

Sam shrugged. Yeah, it was still an applicable response. "How're you guys?" He said instead, shifting the attention away from himself.

"We'll live." Gordon glanced at Jack, probably making sure he hadn't keeled over, contesting this statement. "Despite appearances Jack thinks he's superman and doesn't need any medical care."

His partner rolled his eyes exaggeratingly. "Please… They were so freaked out by that fever that didn't know left from right."

"I suppose…" It was obvious that he was still concerned that Jack had checked himself out seconds after his fever had abated. "Anyway, we're waiting to see Darrin, who was supposed to be out of surgery half an hour ago. Then I'm taking this stubborn ass back to the hotel."

Jack glowered at Gordon but said nothing more on the matter. "Is Dean ok?" he asked turning the focus back to Sam. "You never really said."

"I don't really know," Sam admitted. "They have a couple more tests to run and then see how things progress, but so far he's awake and being generally stubborn about things."

"Sounds like mostly good news then."

"Yeah," Sam replied tentatively, not wanting to jinx the good luck.

A muted beeping interrupted their conversation as Gordon's cell phone went off. He flipped it open knowing it was most likely the hospital staff. After a brief conversation he snapped it closed and got to his feet. "Dare's out of recovery," he said to Jack as he pulled on his jacket, then leaned on the table towards Sam. "Listen Sam, we're leaving as soon as we can get Darrin out of the hospital. Our situation has drawn more attention than we can afford. Our injuries are… well, very random and as a nurse pointed out to me a little suspicious. Cops around here were already wrapped up in the disappearances and I wouldn't be surprised if they start investigating the area we were picked up in. If they find that cave and those bodies things are going to turn very sour." He looked at Jack who nodded in agreement. They had already discussed this at lengths amongst themselves. "Anyway, I'm going to head up there with my cousin's ATV and clear out the cabin. Maybe try to disguise at least the upper entrance to the cave. We're going to try to be off before tomorrow morning."

"Depending on Darrin," Jack interjected, reminding Gordon that a lot rested on how well Darrin's recovery went in the next couple of hours.

Sam was not at all surprised to hear Gordon's concerns but was a little disappointed that this would be another grab-and-go. He was worried about all the potential complications related to the head injury and had thought maybe he could force Dean to stay in the hospital for a couple of days, just to be on the safe side. On the other hand, Dean never liked to stay anywhere for too long. He was already too eager to get back in the Impala and head out of town. "Dean would probably leave now if I gave him that option," Sam mused mostly to himself. However, leaving wasn't really an option as they couldn't afford more trouble with the law. "We'll head out when you do," he told Gordon. "It'll just raise questions if one group leaves before the other."

"Too true," Gordon agreed. He cocked his head at Jack, indicating that they should get going. "Let's meet back here around eleven then." He glanced sharply at his watch. "That should give me enough time to get to the cabin and clear it out." It was evident in his tone that he was all back to business.

Sam nodded in agreement, wondering briefly if he should ask them to pick up the Impala, and then immediately deciding Dean would kill him if he let an almost stranger drive his car. "See you at eleven then."

Jack got unsteadily to his feet and smiled sadly, his face creased with empathy. "Hope everything continues to go well with Dean," he said as a means of parting and then shuffled after Gordon who was hastening towards the elevators.


	44. Chapter 44

FOURTYFOUR

When the two hunters entered the recovery ward they were immediately recognized. The bizarre group of men that had been rushed in this afternoon had become the staff gossip since their arrival. There was much speculation about what they had truly been through and it was only a matter of time before the cops found their way to the hospital to begin investigating. The town had been plagued with random disappearances of their hikers and hunters for months and, needless to say, everyone was getting a little nervous about the surrounding forest. It was obvious that something abnormal had occurred up in the hills today and everyone was hoping that as survivors the strangers could shed some light on their worries. The nurse at the reception desk smiled shyly at the two men and pointed them down the hall to the room their friend was occupying.

When Gordon and Jack found Darrin he was begrudgingly tolerating another vitals exam. The nurses had been bothering him every five minutes since he had come out of the OR and it was making sleep hard to come by. If he had not been feeling like the epitome of crap he would have told them all to bugger off. Needless to say, it was good to see his friends' familiar faces instead of another nurse or doctor. He grinned meekly at them as the nurse finished taking his blood pressure and then scurried away with a nervous smile.

Both Jack and Gordon glanced after her, curious about her abrupt departure. "Scaring them away already?" Gordon teased as he took up residence on the windowsill, leaving the chair for Jack.

Darrin rolled his eyes and shifted uncomfortably onto his side. Upon closer inspection he wasn't looking as well as Gordon had first thought. His colour had only slightly improved since he had pulled him from the cave and that was probably a bit of a worry, especially when so much blood loss was involved. He had pulled his IV laden arm back under a copious amount of blankets, but still shuddered intermittently despite himself. "How're you feeling?" Gordon asked with a little more tenderness.

"Mmm," he replied and blinked blearily at them through drug hazed eyes. "They don't have enough of my blood type." he murmured. "Guess I lost a lot between here and there."

"Internal bleeding?" Jack asked, perked up by the medical talk.

Darrin nodded.

"So, you talked to a doctor? That's good because they wouldn't tell us a single blasted thing and…"

"And we need to be leaving town asap." Gordon interrupted.

Jack glared at him. That was not what he had been going to say at all and, now that Darrin knew they had to leave, he would say he was fine regardless of how he felt. So much for a covert assessment and then deciding between the two of them if it was safe to drag Darrin from the hospital. "I was going to say," he continued to glare at Gordon, "that we don't even know why you went into surgery."

But the damage had been done and Darrin was now fixated on Gordon's proclamation. "Why? Cops?"

Gordon nodded.

"When are we leaving?"

"Later tonight," Gordon answered.

At the same time Jack said "We're not leaving."

Darrin looked back and forth between the two of them knowing Gordon was looking out for all of them while Jack was only looking out for him. "I'll be fine," he said directing his statement to Jack. "I just need a couple hours sleep and I'll be fine."

Jack sat back in the chair, not having the energy to argue his lost point. "It takes more than a couple hours for your body to produce more blood," he muttered.

"We're not taking him out to run the minute mile." Gordon protested. "He'll be fine and when we reach the next hotel he can rest there. Right Dare?"

Darrin just nodded.

Jack huffed in angry annoyance. It was clear that Gordon had decided all this despite their conversations. "I guess if we're leaving so soon you better get going to the cabin," he said trying to repress the acidity he felt welling in him.

"Jack…" Gordon said trying to smooth things over. "We have to go. We don't have a choice."

When Gordon came back Jack would probably be less pissed off but for now he was not letting it go. "I'll wait here with Darrin," he said dismissively.

Gordon was about to suggest Jack go back and rest at the hotel as planned, but the infuriation in his eyes made him decided against it. "Alright. I'll be a couple hours." He stood to go and tossed the hotel keys to Jack wordlessly, just in case. "You guys be good." He looked to Darrin but found him struggling to keep his eyes open, "and get some rest."

***

"He's refusing to take any more pain medications," Dr. North told Sam as they walked and talked towards Dean's room. "I strongly advised against it but your brother is… well, rather stubborn." Sam just nodded and smirked to himself, if that wasn't an understatement. "Besides that," the doctor continued, "I'm pleased with the CT scan. The swelling has gone down significantly and there's no indication that the bleeding has continued. Regardless, I would like to do another scan tomorrow, just to be sure. In the meantime he's going to have some severe headaches to deal with, probably a bit of nausea, and of course the short term amnesia."

"Wait? Amnesia?" That was news to him. When he had last seen Dean he seemed to be reasonably together.

"It's pretty insignificant, considering. It just seems to be restricted to last couple of hours prior to the injury."

Sam wondered if Dean had just been playing the docs for convenience or if the amnesia was legit. He would be able to ask him as soon as they had a second alone.

The doctor stopped Sam outside of the room. "He's intent on leaving but I can't discharge him unless it's under somebody's care. Saying that I strongly suggest a least another day of observation."

Sam nodded again. "He probably won't rest much here. What if we came back tomorrow for an exam."

Dr. North frowned but nodded in agreement anyway. "That sounds reasonable. I'll get the discharge papers for you to sign."

Sam entered the room as Dr. North went the opposite direction. As soon as he saw his brother he could tell A: he was feeling a lot better and B: he was in a pissy mood. There was a nurse beside the bed nervously cleaning up a discarded IV line.

"You look better," Sam said trying to sound cheery, wondering how hard a time Dean was giving these people. Currently, it looked like he had taken it upon himself to remove his IV.

"I feel worse," Dean grumped.

"Well, your doctor said you should still be on pain medication."

"I'm not taking that crap. I can't think straight on it."

Sam suppressed a sigh, "and what do you have to think about." Out of the corner of his eye he caught the nurse flashing a smile to herself and couldn't help but grin in amusement.

Dean glared at his brother until he was interrupted by another flare of the pounding headache that was pulsing consistently through his entire skull. He cinched his eyes shut and pressed his palms to his forehead, trying to hold it at bay. He felt Sam beside him but shrugged him away. If only the docs would give him some normal pills like aspirin and not something that zonked him out so badly. Eventually the worst of it passed and he opened his eyes to find Sam and the nurse looking down at him in concern. "M'm fine," he mumbled.

The nursed raised her eyebrows and, shrugging, left the two brothers alone. She had seen the young man suffer several similar attacks and had been rebuffed to the point where she no longer asked if he needed help.

"I think you should probably take those meds," Sam chided.

"No, I feel fine… mostly." He fidgeted restlessly under the sheets. "When can we get out of here."

"Tell ya what," Sam started as an idea dawn upon him. "If you agree to take the prescriptions they want you to take I'll see if I can get the doctor to discharge you."

"We could just leave," Dean grumbled.

"We could… but that's never as easy as it should be. Let's just talk with the doctor and see if he'd be ok with it."

Dean huffed, "fine."

"Oh by the way, Dr North also said you were having trouble remembering the past couple of hours."

"Like I was going to tell him what we were up to," he replied, getting defensive.

"Yeah, I get that," Sam retorted, trying not to sound short. "I just wanted to make sure you do remember what we were up to."

Dean was quiet, for longer than he should have been. "Maybe a bit," he finally said.

Sam chewed on his bottom lip, arms crossed, trying to decode his brother. "What does that mean, a bit?"

"I remember what stories we were looking into…"

"And?"

"And that's about it." It was Sam's turn to draw out the silence. When he didn't say anything Dean eventually interrupted. "What's one less hunt in the memory bank anyway?"

Sam shook his head; sure Dean was going to look at it that way. "Did the doctor say anything about this to you?"

"He said I was one handsome devil," Dean grinned widely in jest but this was also his cue that he was finished with the current topic, at least for here and now.

Ignoring Dean's joke, Sam decided he would just have to talk to the doctor again and tell him Dean had forgotten the last week of his life. "Alright, I'm going to find the doc to see about your pills. Just sit tight for a bit."

At the mention of the pills Dean's grumpiness returned. "Like I have somewhere to go," he muttered as he watched Sam hobble out of the room.


	45. Chapter 45

FOURTYFIVE

A couple hours later, with pills in hand, the brothers left the ward. It may have been Sam's imagination but he could almost sense the relief of the poor nurses. One last unfortunate soul had helped Sam coax Dean into the wheelchair and then pushed his complaining ass to the cafeteria where Sam said they were meeting friends.

As soon as she was a couple feet away Dean was pushing himself from the chair. "I can walk you know." But the change in position brought on another cascade of pain and he was forced to sit right back in the chair and work through the attack. Sam had pulled up one of the cafeteria chairs and was leaning forward watching him intently, face highlighted with worry, when he opened his eyes. "I'm fine," he retorted even though Sam hadn't aid anything.

"You keep saying that..." He couldn't help but feel sympathetic. As stubborn as Dean was, it didn't change the fact that his spells looked agonizing. And that wasn't including the constant throb that he had so briefly mentioned, to some, it would have seemed like a mute point. The fact that he had mentioned it at all meant it was definitely significant. "Would you please take some of these pills?" Sam pleaded, mostly so he wouldn't have to watch him suffer.

"I'll take them once we get to were we're going. They put me to sleep." Sam had a feeling that Dean wasn't trying to be difficult, just careful. He'd probably give anything to be somewhere where he felt safe enough to put his guard down. "By the way, where are we going?"

"We're waiting for Gordon. They weren't able to check Darrin out so it'll be a bit of a dine-and-dash…"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Dean interrupted him, "Gordon who? Freakin' psycho Gordon?"

"No…" Sam had to stop himself before he automatically started explaining which Gordon he was talking about. It shouldn't have needed explaining, Dean should've remember it. His brows creased together in concern. "Really, Dean? You don't remember them either."

"I told you I don't remember any of the hunt." Despite having previously blown off the amnesia it was obviously frustrating him.

"Dean, we've been here for almost a week… you don't remember any of that?"

"I told you…" He couldn't help the rise in his voice. "Wait! Did you say a frikin' week?"

"Ok, ok." Sam said trying to calm him back down. "It sucks alright and there's a lot to fill you in on, but now is not the time. Right now, you just need to trust me."

"And these people we're waiting for..." Dean seethed under his breath.

"They're good guys, hunters. We were working the same job and ended up helped each other out quite a bit…" Basically saved each other lives, Sam thought but didn't mention it. Dean's eyebrows were now raised in intrigue, despite his anger. "Anyway, we need to be leaving town before too many questions start getting asked. I didn't think I would be able to get you discharged and one of theirs is in the hospital to. We figured it'd be less suspicious if we left at the same time."

"Sounds like a juicy tale," Dean said sourly, then perked up. "Are there any hot girls in this band of hunters."

Sam shot him a disbelieving look, but Dean shrugged thinking it to be a legitimate question. "No," Sam answered and shook his head in wonder.

He looked down the hallway and saw Gordon approaching, nodding his acknowledgement to the brothers. Sam nodded back but Dean just stared calculatingly up at him.

Gordon liked Sam alright, but for the most part he didn't really understand the older brother; though he had to respect the guy for all Sam said he was. "Car's parked out front," he said directing his words at Sam. "It's gonna be a cozy ride but it only took me an little over an hour to get here."

"Sounds good," Sam answered, a little distracted by Dean glaring at him out of the corner of his eyes.

Gordon had simply chosen to ignoring Dean's calloused demeanour. "I'm gonna go upstairs and grab Jack and Darrin. We won't be long." He started to walk away, "oh yeah, it's the ugly brown station wagon," and he tossed Sam the keys.

"Where the hell is my car?" Dean demanded loudly as soon as Gordon was a couple feet away.

"Relax, the car is ok." He reached into his pocket and handed Dean his keys, not that that confirmed anything. "It's still at the trailhead."

Dean huffed, "better be ok," and he crossed his arms. "And now we're riding in some stranger's station wagon, and his name is Gordon, and I don't like strangers., and I don't like him."

"You haven't even given him a chance!"

"Don't have to, I'm an excellent judge of character."

"You are a stubborn…" but Sam caught himself and ended the argument before it could start. "Look, he's our only ride to our car…"

"My car."

"Your car." Sam sighed. "So unless you want me to tell Dr. North you're going to stay a couple more days, then I suggest you stop being such a jerk."

Dean winced and clutched his head as Sam finished scolding him. For a second he thought his brother was just being theatrical until he realized it was a legitimate spell. Sam knew how badly a headache could flare up when it wanted to and he felt increasingly empathetic. All the arguing was probably not helping the situation.

Once Dean had worked through that one he was a little more subdued. "Alright," he sighed. "So let's go wait in this car," and he laced the last bit with a hint of contempt. He pushed himself slowly from the chair this time and, using the table to steady himself, he held out his other hand to tell Sam to give him a minute. Then the two of them then limped and shuffled out of the hospital.

The station wagon was more than obvious. It looked like it belonged at the dump with half the body eaten away by rust and the suspension tired and sagging. "That is one sad car," Dean remarked as he waited for Sam to unlock it. "Still, I'd feel better driving…"

"You're not driving, Dean." Not that it surprised Sam that he had said this but he really was in no condition to be behind the wheel. To that point, neither was he. He wondered how far they'd have to drive to get out of the state and find a motel so they could rest. "Besides it's not even your car."

Dean shrugged. "Fine, if you think that's best then I guess you and your gangly self better take shotgun. Then you can be the first to fly out the windshield when he crashes."

"Dean, he's not gonna just crash the car."

Dean just shrugged again and turned to get into the car when Gordon and Jack came across the lot, hastily pushing Darrin in a wheelchair and glancing behind them. They slowed as they approached the car. Darrin was not looking well and Sam wondered how he was staying upright in the chair.

"Darrin, can you sit in the car?" Gordon asked as he kept one eye on the hospital doors.

He was answered with a doubtful glassy stare. Sam had a feeling that Darrin, in addition to being dragged from the hospital too early, was probably pretty drugged up.

"Let's set him up in the back," Jack suggested and opened up the rear. A couple of emergency blankets that smelt of the musty cabin were scattered about and Jack arranged them as a back rest against the backside of the bench. "It'll have to do."

Sam's attention was averted from them as he noticed Dean stumbled against the car, bent over, clutching his head again. He instinctively dropped his crutch and grabbed Dean's elbow, ushering him to the passenger seat.

Blinded by the pain, he allowed Sam's guidance and obeyed promptly when he told him to sit. When the torment stopped he looked up at Sam apologetically. The wear was again starting to show on his brother's face and Dean knew they had to get some serious rest, seriously soon.

Jack and Gordon had struggled to get their suffering friend into the car, but it was finally said and done, IV lines hanging from the hooks where a normal person would hang their dry cleaning. Dean hobbled himself, with his depleting energy, to the back seat so Sam could have more room for his casted leg. He wouldn't have fit in the car any other way.

A couple of staff had just come out the doors and were scanning the parking lot. Gordon took one look in their direction and got himself and Jack quickly in on the other side. Discarding the wheelchair they drove from the parking lot as casually as they could.


	46. Chapter 46

FOURTYSIX

The drive was quiet and quick, mostly due to the fact that everyone except the driver was passed out. Gordon couldn't wait until it was his turn to get some sleep. He still had a couple more hours to go and it already felt like he had been on the move for days. As he turned onto the short gravel road that lead to the trailhead Sam stretched and yawned in the confined space of the car.

Before he even got his bearings he twisted around to check on Dean. Jack had given him some simple aspirin from the glove box and it was keeping the worst of the headache at bay. Right now, he just looked asleep. Sam allowed himself a breath of relief and turned back around to look out the windshield. Other than the trees being illuminated by the shocking headlights they were surrounded by darkness.

"Nothing like the pitch of night," Gordon commented, feeding unaware off of Sam's thought.

"Still feels lighter than that blasted cave." And it did. The trees, though dark, loomed amiably up towards a midnight sky. Knowing that they were no longer filled with evil hench-bats made Sam truly appreciate their tranquil majesty. It was the kind of peace that the forest should normally bestow.

"If I never set foot in another cave, it'll be too soon," Gordon replied. "Speaking of… you may be interested to know that the pit to hell closed right up; it's a foot deep crater now."

"You went back in?" Sam said more shocked about that then the closed gate.

"Had to," he said simply. "Saw a familiar Hawaiian shirt that needed a proper burial."

That hadn't even registered to Sam as he was racing passed the corpses to save Dean. He wondered what exactly had remained of Tristan for Gordon to bury. He tactfully said nothing but did try to sneak an unobtrusively glance, but Gordon remained professionally stone faced.

"Besides," he eventually continued when Sam sat saying nothing, "I had to get Dare's lucky pack." He pulled up beside a black jeep and put the car into park. "The jeep's got all the stuff from the cabin in it. Anything that's yours is in the front seat."

Sam nodded and struggled, crutches, cast, and all, out into the nippy night. Somewhere, deep in Sam's memory, he recalled seeing the two vehicles when they first arrived but hadn't thought much of it. The Impala was to their right looking safe and sound. Sam sighed and frowned wondering again how they were going to drive out of the state. His gas foot was busted and Dean was far from being with it.

"Are you guys going to be ok?" Gordon asked immediately seeing the same problem as he watched Sam hop towards the jeep.

"We'll be fine," a voice said behind the two of them. They turned to see Dean with his door propped open, blinking away the sleep in his eyes. Jack too was stirring and stretching out the inevitable kinks of sleeping in a car.

Sam looked doubtfully at his brother but wasn't going to argue with him in front of the others. They would sort something out, they always did. Maybe if they slept the night here, maybe, just maybe, Dean would feel well enough to drive.

Jack came around the other side of the car looking much better then he had this afternoon. "Well… I guess this is where we part ways." There was a hint of sadness behind his voice and Sam knew where it was coming from. Hunting was a lonely road as only a select handful of people shared the knowledge of the supernatural. Out of those few it was even rarer to find a genuine ally. Sam nodded solemnly.

Gordon grabbed a bag from the jeep and dropped it by the Impala, then rejoined the group. "If you guys ever need anything you can always call us," he said and extended a warm handshake to Sam. "God knows we owe you."

"It's a mutual debt," Sam replied and looked specifically to Jack.

He just nodded humbly. The most Jack could expect from himself was to see his patients recovered and healthy, and Dean was only a couple of weeks away from that point. Luckily, Darrin too was on the road to wellbeing. For a couple of seconds the reward of those two survivals masked the guilt and regret he felt over losing their fourth, but only for a couple seconds. It was something Jack was sure they would all be dealing with more now that the hunt was over. He turned to look at Sam's brother and smiled warmly. He had been acting slightly odd since the hospital, but then again, Jack didn't really know him that well.

Dean shifted his gaze, bewildered and embarrassed. Things were getting a little too mushy for him. "Do you guys wanna hug?" he asked trying to sound light, but more intent on break up the sentimental mood. If Sam was ok with these guys then he could be too; just as long as they didn't actually hug.

Gordon rolled his eyes, "yeah, looks that way." He tossed the station wagon's keys to Jack. "Anyway… I'll take the jeep, you take Dare and the beast."

Jack gave one final nod and smile to the brothers and went around the car to the driver's side.

Dean was just about to pull himself up when he heard his name from the back of the car. He turned to see the third stranger peering hazily at him. Now that he looked closer at the young man a twinge of recognition tugged at his mind.

He twisted with a grimace towards Dean reaching out a clenched fist. "You make better use of this then I do." He dropped a metal charm into Dean's tentative, outreached palm.

Dean glanced down at the silver cross and a small flood of memories came back to him - the cavern, being wet and sore, Darrin as his replacement Sammy. Looking back up he remembered meeting him in the woods and traveling to the inner chamber, the splay of intestines and his crude bandaging, battling the demon to the thrum of Darrin's exorcism. There was still a lot of holes and questions but at least he was starting to remember.

"Thanks…" Dean said still trying to sort out all the memories that were filling his mind.

Darrin was shaking his head. "That's to thank _you_." He left it at that. Being a man of few words, he could tell Dean didn't need to hear more. He closed his eyes again, feeling the exhaustion take its hold again.

Dean closed his fist around the cross and stepped shakily from the car. Sam didn't notice as he was exchanging numbers with Gordon. Dean made sure to steady himself well before making his way to his own 'baby.'

"Guess it's been a couple of days, hey girl." He patted the smooth black paint as he unlocked the door.

Seeing Dean getting into the driver's seat spurred Sam into action and he bid one last quick goodbye to Jack and Gordon. When he reached the Impala it was already purring to life.

"Dean," Sam said leaning down to look sternly at his brother. "You are not driving."

"Just get in the car, limpy. I don't feel so bad right now. I'll pull over if things change ok?"

Sam exhaled noisily in exasperation. Without physically removing Dean there was nothing he could do. He, grudgingly folded his tall frame into the passenger's seat. Stretching his cast towards the dash. "We are so stopping at the first motel we see."

"Whatever you say boss."

"Yeah, I wish."

Grinning wearily, Dean's face was filled with satisfaction. He looked out of Sam's window to watch as the jeep and station wagon pulled away.

Sam turned to watch them go as well, then returned his eyes to Dean. "What's up with you? I thought you didn't like strangers ."

Dean shrugged and gently started to ease the Impala down the gravel road. "I've got a feeling that they're really not that bad." He turned up the radio and pulled out into the night.


End file.
